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QUEST AND QUERY 

A BOOK OF VERSE 



MELANTHANE COOVER 



BOSTON 

RICHARD G. BADGER 

THE GORHAM PRESS 



7j 









Copyright, 1924, by Melanthane Coover 
All Rights Reserved 


/ 


'PS-5 , 505 

p &ze Q + 

\°12, 4 

'i£> 


Made in the United States of America 


Press of J. J. Little & Ives Company, New York, U. S. A. 


MAY 23 1924 ' 

©Cl AT0337 4 




GENERAL INDEX 


Above the Bells 

Action . 

Adele . 

All Hallow E’en 

Ave Anno . 

Broken Heart .. 
Child’s Dream . 

Childhood . 

Circuit of Life .. 
Compensation ... 

Confession . 

Cosey Corner ... 
Country Life ... 

Creation . 

Creed . 

Crepuscule . 

Daphne’s Lament 

Death . 

Diaphane . 

Doubt . 

Evolution . 

Fear . 

Fearlessness 
Flanders Fields 
Flower Song 

Forgiveness . 

Fruit of Years . 

Gift, A . 

Gratitudo . 

Hymn of Praise 
Hymn of Service 


Canto 

Page 

.. VIrVIII 

”3 

. VIII :II 

156 

.XII :XXV 

292 

.. VI :X 

116 

. .IV :VII 

76 

. .IllrXVIII 

66 

. XIV :X VIII 

339 

XIII :IX 

304 

. .IV :IV 

72 

..VI:IV 

108 

.XII:XII 

264 

..VI: VI 

in 

. .XI :XV 

228 

.XIV :I 

316 

.XII :XV 

268 

.... I: V 

21 

.. Ill :VI 

5 i 

XIII :IV 

298 

..IX: VII 

184 

...X:IV 

197 

.XIV :X 

327 

.XII:XVIII 

274 

.XII:XX 

281 

.XII:XXVII 

293 

.VII:XXVII 

146 

. .IV :XIV 

84 

.. .11 :II 

27 

. VII:IX 

125 

. .III:XX 

67 

,XII:XI 

263 

.XII :XIV 

267 

































4 


GENERAL INDEX 


Hymn of Sorrow .... 
Hymn of Tranquillity 

Hymn of Trust . 

Ideal and Idea . 

Immanent Good .... 
Immanent Grace .... 
Immigrant’s Lament . 

Incarnation . 

In Memoriam . 

Inner Touch . 

Inner Voice . 

Intention . 

Lines to a Penknife . 
Little Brown Cottage 
Love’s Own Land ... 

Love’s Secrecy . 

Love’s Tragedy . 

Lullaby . 

Maiden’s Dream 

Minor Key . 

Motherhood . 

Music . 

New Year . 

Old Year. 

Outlook . 

Over-Soul.. 

Peace on Earth . 

Perpetuity . 

Pilgrim’s Dream _ 

Prayer, A . 

Problem, A . 

Quiet Voice, A . 

Recreation . 

Retrospection . 

Rocky Knoll . 

Rural Graveyard ... 

Scale of Life . 

Scale of Nature . 

Self-Discovery . 


Canto 

Page 

XIII :VI 

301 

.XII:XXII 

289 

XIII :I 

295 

.. XV :I 

343 

,VIII:XIV 

172 

... V:IV 

93 

.. Ill :VIII 

54 

...II :IV 

30 

. .III:XXII 

68 

.. IX :X 

189 

... X: VI 

201 

, VIII :X 

167 

VIII :IV 

160 

. VII:XVII 

134 

. VII :XXX 

150 

.VII :XV 

131 

. VII :III 

119 

XlllrVIII 

303 

,.XV:V 

347 

.. Ill :XII 

45 

XIII :X 

304 

,VIII:VII 

164 

.. XI :XI 

219 

. .XI :X 

218 

. .XI :IV 

214 

,VII:I 

118 

. .IV :IX 

78 

... V: VI 

96 

..XI:XVII 

235 

.XllrXVI 

272 

... .I:VII 

24 

...II:X 

37 

VIII :XI 

168 


60 

.. IV :I 

69 

XIII:XIII 

3 ii 


34 

.. . 11 : VI 

33 


262 









































GENERAL INDEX 


5 



Canto 

Page 

Social Soul . 


127 

Soldier’s Service . 

.VIIIiVIII 

162 

Song of the Brook . 

.I:III 

17 

Sorrow and Laughter ........ 

.III:IV 

48 

Spark, A . 

.I: XVI 

i 5 

Star of Hope .. 


58 

Sunny Side .. 

.Ill :XVI 

64 

Tree Life . 

.XV:XI 

336 

Twilight Travels . 

.IlrXII 

40 

Unseen World . 

.XI :XI V 

226 

Uplift . 

.V :II 

90 

Vesperidum . 

.IX :IX 

187 

Vocations . 

.VI:III 

107 

Winter’s Beauty . 

.IX :V 

182 

Woodland in Autumn . 

.IX:III 

178 





















CONTENTS 


PAGE 

CANTO I. THE TRANSIENT WORLD . . 15 

i. Gates Ajar.15 

ii. A Spark.16 

iii. Song of the Brook.17 

iv. Nature’s Whisper.19 

v. Crepuscule.21 

vi. Composure.23 

vii. A Problem.24 

CANTO II. THE PROBLEM OF LIFE . . 25 

i. Assumptive Words.25 

ii. Fruit of Years.27 

iii. Evasion. 3 ° 

iv. Incarnation. 3 ° 

v. Martial Solutions. 3 1 

vi. The Scale of Nature. 33 

vii. The Scale of Life. 3 V 

viii. The Worth of Man. 35 

ix. Obscurities. 35 

x. A Quiet Voice. 37 

xi. Soundless Depths. 39 

xii. Twilight Travels. 4 ° 

CANTO HI. THE PROBLEM OF PAIN . . 45 

i. Consciousness ....... 45 

ii. The Minor Key. 45 

iii. The Master Key. 4 6 

iv. Sorrow and Laughter. 4 ^ 

v. Calculable Principles .... 49 

vi. Daphne’s Lament. 5 1 

7 












8 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 



vii. 

Laws .... 






52 


viii. 

Immigrant’s Lament 





• 

54 


ix. 

Moral Solutions 





• 

56 


X. 

Star of Hope . 





• 

58 


xi. 

Aftermath . 





• 

59 


xii. 

Retrospection 





• 

60 


xiii. 

Masteries 





• 

61 


xiv. 

The Chafing Spirit 





• 

62 


XV. 

Worth of Problems 





• 

63 


xvi. 

The Sunny Side 





• 

64 


xvii. 

Optimism . . . 





• 

65 


xviii. 

The Broken Heart 





• 

66 


xix. 

Apathy .... 





• 

66 


XX. 

Gratitude . . . 





• 

67 


xxi. 

Emancipation . 





• 

68 


xxii. 

In Memoriam . . 





• 

68 

CANTO 

IV. 

THE PATH TO PEACE 



• 

69 


i. 

Rocky Knoll 





• 

69 


ii. 

Peace through Pain 





• 

70 


iii. 

The Pacific State . 





• 

7 i 


iv. 

Circuit of Life . 





• 

72 


V. 

Source of Peace . 





• 

74 


vi. 

<( M 





• 

75 


vii. 

Ave Anno . . . 





• 

7 6 


viii. 

Insatiety 





• 

77 


ix. 

On Earth Peace . 





• 

78 


X. 

Vain Pursuits . 





• 

78 


xi. 

Man of Sorrows . 





• 

81 


xii. 

Attitude .... 





• 

81 


xiii. 

Man of Peace . 





• 

83 


xiv. 

Forgiveness 





• 

84 


XV. 

Peace Within . . 





• 

85 

CANTO 

V. 

THE PATH TO POWER 



• 

87 


i. 

Self-Extension . 





• 

87 


ii. 

Uplift .... 






90 














CONTENTS 


9 



iii. 

Majesty of Service 





PAGE 

92 


iv. 

Immanent Grace . 





93 


V. 

Gentleness and Power 





95 


vi. 

Perpetuity .... 





96 


vii. 

Chivalric Prayer . . 





98 


viii. 

Will as Power 





100 


ix. 

Virtues as Power . 





103 

CANTO 

VI. 

THE WAY TO HAPPINESS 



106 


i. 

Joy Estranged . 





106 


ii. 

Two Sprites . . . 





106 


iii. 

Vocations .... 





107 


iv. 

Soul Attitudes . 





108 


V. 

Evaluation .... 





no 


vi. 

The Cosey Corner 





iii 


vii. 

Will-o’-the-Wisp . . 





iii 


viii. 

Above the Bells . 





113 


ix. 

Seat of Bliss . . . 





115 


X. 

Hallow E’en . . . 





116 

CANTO 

VII. 

THE REALM OF LOVE 




118 


i. 

The Over-Soul . . 





118 


ii. 

Companionship 





118 


iii. 

Love’s Tragedy 





119 


iv. 

Love Creative . 





120 


V. 

Retreat. 





121 


vi. 

Love’s Transfiguration 





123 


vii. 

Love’s Simplicity . 





124 


viii. 

Social Grace . . . 





124 


ix. 

A Gift ..... 





125 


X. 

An Aspiration . 





126 


xi. 

The Social Soul 





127 


xii. 

Love Universal 





128 


xiii. 

Duality. 





129 


xiv. 

Love’s Energy . . . 





130 


XV. 

Love’s Satisfaction 





131 


xvi. 

Love’s Fruits . . . 





133 















IO 


CONTENTS 


xvii. 

Little Brown Cottage 




PAGB 

134 

xviii. 

Love’s Generousness . 




139 

xix. 

Nature of Love 




141 

XX. 

Spontaneous Love . 




142 

xxi. 

Selfishness. 




143 

xxii. 

Amenities. 




143 

xxiii. 

Absent Friends 




144 

xxiv. 

Disagreement .... 




145 

XXV. 

Diversity. 




I46 

xxvi. 

Mutation. 




I46 

xxvii. 

Language of Love 




I46 

xxviii. 

Source of Love 




149 

xxix. 

Defeat of Love .... 




150 

XXX. 

Love’s Own Land . 




150 

CANTO VIII. 

THE QUEST OF THE GOOD 


IS2 

i. 

Evanescence .... 




152 

ii. 

Action. 




156 

iii. 

The Fleeing Good 




157 

iv. 

The Good as Penknife . 




160 

V. 

The Good as Food 




l6l 

vi. 

Doubt of the Good 




162 

vii. 

Good Music .... 




163 

viii. 

Good Soldier .... 




164 

ix. 

Enemies of the Good . 




165 

X. 

The Good as Intention . 




167 

xi 

The Good as Recreation . 




168 

xii. 

The Good as Personality 




168 

xiii. 

Perverted Good 




170 

xiv. 

Immanent Good 




172 

CANTO IX. 

THE QUEST OF THE BEAUTI- 



FUL. 




174 

i. 

Sources of the Beautiful . 



# 

174 

ii. 

The Transient Beautiful 




177 

iii. 

Woodlands in Autumn 



• 

178 

iv. 

Birthplace of Beauty . 

« 

• 

• 

l8l 













CONTENTS n 

PAGE 

v. Winter’s Beauty.182 

vi. Beauty as Rhythm.182 

vii. Diaphane.184 

viii. The Poet-Soul.184 

ix. Vesperidum .187 

x. Inner Touch.189 

xi. Beauty a Poem.190 

xii. Beauty Eternal.190 

xiii. Desire for Beauty.190 

CANTO X. THE QUEST OF THE TRUE . 192 

i. Reality.192 

ii. Hypothesis.194 

iii. Forms Ephemeral.195 

iv. Doubt.197 

v. Humility of Truth.199 

vi. Inner Voice.201 

vii. Ethics of Truth.202 

viii. Truth of Things.203 

ix. Truth as Person.204 

CANTO XI. IN QUEST OF SELF .... 207 

i. Life’s Journey.207 

ii. Self-Retirement.210 

iii. Experience.212 

iv. Dim Goals.214 

v. Dissolving Goals.214 

vi. The Lost Self.214 

vii. The Discovered Self.215 

viii. Quest as Goal.215 

ix. Thanks-Living.217 

x. The Past.218 

xi. The Future.219 

xii. The Inherent Past.219 

xiii. Distinguishing Self.222 

xiv. Unseen World.226 

xv. Country Life.228 





























CONTENTS 


xvi. 

The Warring Self 





PAGK 

232 

xvii. 

Pilgrim’s Dream . 




. 

235 

xviii. 

ii ii 




. 

239 

xix. 

Progressive Self . 




. 

243 

XX. 

Future Life as Goal . 




• 

245 

CANTO XII. 

THE QUEST FOR GOD 



. 

246 

i. 

Soul-Adventure 




. 

246 

ii. 

Pathway of God . 




. 

248 

iii. 

Invisibles .... 




. 

249 

iv. 

Spurs of God . 




. 

253 

V. 

The Cheap God . 




. 

255 

vi. 

The Far-Sighted God 




. 

256 

vii. 

The Sympathetic God 





258 

viii. 

The Immanent God . 




. 

259 

ix. 

The Misconceived God 




. 

260 

X. 

The Self-Disclosing God 



. 

262 

xi. 

Hymn of Praise 





263 

xii. 

Acknowledgement . . 





264 

xiii. 

Self-Seeing .... 




. 

265 

xiv. 

Hymn of Service . 





267 

XV. 

Creed. 





268 

xvi. 

A Prayer .... 




. 

272 

xvii. 

Incarnation . . . 




. 

274 

xviii. 

Fear. 





277 

xix. 

The Great Request 




. 

28l 

XX. 

Fearlessness 





281 

xxi. 

Pessimism .... 





289 

xxii. 

Hymn of Tranquillity 





289 

xxiii. 

God’s Acre .... 




. 

290 

xxiv. 

The Cut Flower . 




. 

291 

xxv. 

Lines to Adele . . . 





292 

xxvi. 

The Minor Chord 




# 

293 

xxvii. 

Flanders Fields 





293 

xxviii. 

The Great Unseeable 

. 



. 

294 













CONTENTS 13 

PACK 

CANTO XIII. IN THE SHADOWS .... 295 

i. Self-Commitment.295 

ii. The Great Mystery.296 

iii. The Sigh That Is Told .... 297 

iv. Death a Process.298 

v. Youth.300 

vi. An Outcry.301 

vii. Helpful Presence.302 

viii. Lullaby.303 

ix. Childhood.304 

x. Motherhood.304 

xi. Transiency.306 

xii. The Unfathomed.306 

xiii. The Little Graveyard . . . . 311 

xiv. A Prayer.314 

xv. The Thin Curtain.315 

CANTO XIV. IN THE HEIGHTS.316 

i. Nebulous ./Eons ...... 316 

ii. Life’s Embryo.318 

iii. Sensation.320 

iv. A Prospect.321 

v. Morals.322 

vi. Intolerance.323 

vii. Plans.324 

viii. A Retrospect.325 

ix. Dance of Atoms.326 

x. Life’s Ascent.327 

xi. A Reflection.328 

xii. Entelechy . . . . . . . .329 

xiii. Homeward Bound.330 

xiv. Home-Circle.332 

xv. Arrival.333 

xvi. Ecstasy Veiled.334 

xvii. Regeneration.336 

xviii. Child’s Dream.339 






























14 CONTENTS 

FAGB 

CANTO XV. THE IDEAL AS QUEST ... 343 

i. Ideal and Idea.343 

ii. Ideal in Nature. 344 

iii. Disintegration. 344 

iv. Defeated Ideals. 346 

v. Expectancy’s Defeat.347 

vi. Conflicting Ideals.349 

vii. Growth and the Ideal .... 350 

viii. Sculptured Art.351 

ix. Self-Expression in Ideal .... 352 

x. Ideal in Art.354 

xi. The Tree as Ideal.356 

xii. Erratic Ideals.357 

xiii. The Ideal in the Real .... 359 

xiv. Reality of the Ideal.361 

xv. The Ideal as Action.362 














QUEST AND QUERY 


CANTO I 

FOREWORD: THE TRANSIENT WORLD 

I 

The sylvan slopes grow scant of autumn shade, 
And trees stand almost leafless in their charm 
Of anatomic strength. From everglade 

The wary blackbird sounds its shrill alarm. 

The verdant sheen is gone, and leaves assume 
The radiant hues of gold and fire. 

When frost 

Attempts to quench arboreal flame, ’mid gloom 
Of smoky atmosphere, in distance lost, 

The mountain blue and dim athwart the sky 
Speaks with a melancholy charm, and tells 
Of longings in the human soul that lie 
Still deeper than the wild entrancing dells 
Which nestle in the cove. 

There is afar 

Some region where all truth and knowledge blend, 
A home of light and love, where gates ajar 
Invite to rest. Our vacillating courses bend 
Toward some goal where answers shall be given 
To anxious queries of our restless mind. 

The hearts that deeply yearn, and long have striven, 
Somewhere the satisfying truth shall find. 

We still are groping pilgrims of the night, 

But confident there is approaching dawn; 
Though feeble grow the continual call for light, 
Some listening ear reveres the orison. 

15 


QUEST AND QUERY 
II 


The night is dark, 

And in the quiet room 
Where warmth dispels the gloom 
I watch the spark 
Ascend the chimney space 
And run its little race 
Of segment arc. 

I too ascend 
A lighted spirit-spark 
In mystic world so dark, 

And whither tend ? 

The future faintly gleams, 

Muffled by mist of dreams, 
Toward an end. 

My life pursues 
A circle full complete, 

Where light and darkness meet 
Behind the views 
Which mortal eyes behold 
Through life so briefly told 
In sombre hues. 

A segment brief 
Is this my weird career 
Through scenes oft dark and drear, 
Approaching reef 
Of some rock-sheltered shore, 
Where something lies in store 
Of garnered sheaf. 

A continent 

Of boundless circling life 
Secluded from the strife 
Of discontent 

Lies back of these frail years 
Bedewed with anxious tears 
So oft misspent. 


THE TRANSIENT WORLD 


17 


Divinely given, 

My spirit-spark returns 
To life that ever burns 
As light of heaven. 

Through silences so still 
My slowly yielding will 
Is kindly driven. 

Ill 

Silent I sat in reverie 

By the brooklet’s rippling stream, 

Where the close-branched trees o’ershadowed me, 
Arresting the sun’s bright beam. 

The forest was clad in misty hue, 

And zephyrs gave dreams a lair, 

And lichens among the wild ferns grew 
Where elves found a slumberous chair. 

The drooping bough of the willow tree 
Nodded and kissed the stream, 

As the blithesome bird swinging merrily 
Warbled its thrilling theme, 

And the ripples formed by the dipping branch 
Troubled the waters clear, 

Then hastened with eager joy to launch 
In the gurgling eddies near. 

My ear was tuned to the melody, 

The lilt of the buoyant brook, 

To voluble nature’s vis-a-vis, 

The fountain of many a book, 

While the brooklet sang of chivalry, 

Of wonderful things of old, 

Of marvels in ancient poesy, 

And events in fiction told. 

It sang a simple melody 
Of Lethe’s fathomless deeps, 

Where oblivion rests perpetually, 

And remembrance of sorrow sleeps; 


i8 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Of Phaethon’s fate, and the amber tears 
Of the wailing sisters’ woes, 

And the poplar trees which stood for years 
Where the swift Eridanus flows. 

Pactolus with its golden sand 
Where afflicted Midas bathed, 

Enriching Lydia’s fertile land 

Which its sparkling currents laved, 

Its tribute paid to the fluent song 
Of the brooklet in its flight, 

As it hastened its limpid flow along 
In its windings out of sight. 

It murmured low in tender lay 
Of Bethesda’s healing tide, 

Where from early dawn to twilight grey 
Afflicted souls abide, 

Awaiting the flow of the pool below 
When celestial spirits come 
To trouble the waves to an overflow 
For faith’s delirium. 

The rapid’s rush, and the waterfall, 

Were the theme of its glad refrain, 

As it plunged in glee o’er the precipice tall, 
Sprinkling the spray like rain, 

While the resplendent hues of the sun’s bright 
beams 

In a glistening veil of mist, 

Shed a rainbow light o’er descending streams 
Which shone like the amethyst. 

The shades of many a valiant knight 
In the tones of a muffled fife 
Piped Mars’ malediction in the wild moonlight, 
Who shortened their course of life, 

When the piercing clang and the boding clash 
And the thundering tread were heard, 

And cragged cliffs ’mid helmets’ flash 
To the pealing echo stirred. 


THE TRANSIENT WORLD 


19 


A doleful dirge in semitone 
Condoling winds expressed, 

A weirdly sympathetic moan 

From the pinetrees’ fronded crest; 

And pale-toned echoes fled the walls 
Of the canyon’s battlement, 

Where cascade torrent wildly falls 
In its tortuous steep descent. 

Through forest dense, and quiet vale, 

The restless stream roamed on, 

Hymning in praise the tranquil dale, 

And the calm of the eve anon. 

And the spectral deer with timorous look 
On the mossy margin stood, 

Then bounded the banks of the refreshing brook 
And was lost in the tanglewood. 

Deep bubbling springs, and fountains clear, 

Came forth in silvery rills, 

And coursed their way by the cottage near 
To allay life’s fevered ills, 

Till the waters mix with the shadowy Styx, 

And the boatman holds his breath, 

Where unerring darts of doom transfix 
At the gates of certain death. 

The carolling waters still chant on 
Intoning ancestral hymns, 

And quaint old strains of spirits gone 
Where Hades’ shadow dims. 

And there’s many a song that is yet unsung, 

As the waters e’er flow on 
Attuning the future fluent tongue 
For life’s Kyrie eleison. 

IV 

Communing souls that closely twine their deep 
Yet dim indefinite cravings with the drear 
Sad reveries of the fading leaf, and creep 


20 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Beneath the shadows of the dying year, 
And nestle there in touch with nature’s ripe 
Reflective solemn mood, find in this calm 
Embrace condolence soothing, sweet. 


They pipe 

An empty selah to a pensive psalm, 

Who pause not at the year’s rich close to hear 
Shy whispers softly stealing from the soul 
Of things, and life’s true meaning learn. In fear 
Of losing what wise nature means, while roll 
The years with seasons ripe with truth, 

The thoughtful mind would still its queries vain 
To catch the full intent which comes, forsooth, 
From silence deep, which ne’er the truth would 
feign. 

For silence best befits profoundest things, 

Which lie too deep to be expressed in terms 
Of coarse incomprehensive speech, which brings 
Replies but superficial, and affirms 
As certainties things indefinable 

And unresolved for simple vulgar grasp. 

Wise silence oft befits the knowable, 

And keeps in hushed reserve the words that clasp 
Within their fold emotional truth, the sole 

Concern of some sore-pressed and troubled heart, 
Which longs to grasp some fondly lingering dole 
Of faltering love from agile gift apart. 

Within the golden air of converse sweet 

Wake filial truths which ripen with the years, 
And press toward expression as they greet 

Receptive souls with thoughts too grave for tears. 

But carmine leaves and golden hues relieve 

The sombre shades of saddened days, and give 
To melancholy’s hours a sweet reprieve 

To those who seek the thoughtful life to live. 


THE TRANSIENT WORLD 


21 


The deepest sorrow has a golden tinge, 

And every virtuous grief makes sweet the face 
Of those who suffer for the truths that hinge 
On sentient throbs that lift the human race. 

Pain speaks a language all can comprehend, 

And leaves a residue of fertile thought 
As precious as the fruits that e’er attend 
The patient year to its fruition brought. 

V 

It seems to me but yesterday 
The May buds bloomed, 

And all along the trellised way 
The flowers perfumed 

The air, and seemed to prophesy 
Perpetual spring; 

And silken brilliant butterfly 
Was on the wing. 

Now dead leaves strew the hidden path; 
The sky is dull, 

As though succeeding storm of wrath 
There came a lull. 

Austere in anatomic grace 
The rugged tree 

Despoiled of silvery leaf’s embrace 
Beckons to me. 

So many blossoms lived and died 
In brief career, 

While I, engaged in things aside, 

Deigned not to hear 

The rustle of the wings of time. 

The dying year 

Still found me in my hardy prime 
And robust cheer. 


22 


QUEST AND QUERY 


But I forget that once as child 
My life began, 

And swiftly transient time beguiled 
The growing man. 

The ripening sun richly deceives 
In prosperous clime, 

And slowly withers us as leaves; 

We pass our prime. 

The noblest product of the years 
Is growing mind. 

Despite the gush of childhood’s tears 
There’s joy, I find, 

Buried in boons in strange disguise; 
There’s happiness 

In reaching for a noble prize 
Which tears caress. 

So exquisitely qualified 
Is every mode 

Of nature’s work, that ’tis my pride 
To bear the load. 

Our poignant labor gives us food, 

And fruitful grief 

Does something kind that makes for good, 
As garnered sheaf. 

Our life engrossed in busy deeds 
Of gliding days 

Begins in pang, and then proceeds 
In winsome ways 

To blend the music of the stars 
With trembling harp, 

Till weathered faces show the scars 
Of pains that warp. 

No more I plan, but meditate; 

Reflection rules. 

My footsteps press with halting gait 
The vestibules 


THE TRANSIENT WORLD 


23 


Of other worlds. My eye grows dim 
To scan earth’s space 
As I approach the shadows grim 
Where ends the race. 

Lord, ’tis so dark, I cannot see! 

Hold Thou my hand; 

So strange is all the world to me, 

Do Thou command 
Some light to fill my darkened eye, 

Some radiance send; 

My soul’s faint longings feebly cry; 

Do Thou attend! 

O vague unrest, that will not see 
That life within 
Has ripened for eternity. 

Escape the gin 

Of flesh, which life no longer needs; 

Let Spirit speak, 

And meekly follow where He leads 
To mountain peak. 

VI 

And ere we from recurrent themes retire, 

O Autumn Song, that tells of work complete, 
Sweet balmy Winds, which gentle moods inspire, 
Compose our troubled minds in that retreat 
Of calm communion with a world unseen, 

That we may feel a Father’s love, that works 
In every transient form from springtime’s green 
To winter’s chill and saddening gloom, that lurks 
In earth’s experience. 


We all do fade 

As does the falling leaf, and ripen too 
For higher joys above, and then are laid 

Into the arms of mother earth to live anew. 


24 QUEST AND QUERY 

Though faint our cry, O hear us still, we pray, 
Our weakening struggle is to reach the light; 

O lead us, as we go toward the day, 

And keep us, Father, through the lonely night. 

VII 

’Twas night, and under the cold lamplight 
The fluttering snowflakes fell, 

In a rift of the snow in the wind’s keen blight 
Was a scene where shadows dwell; 

The face of a child in the snow-white sheet 
With the icy eye of death 
* Looked up to the light from the pedestal’s feet, 
Where froze her enfeebled breath. 

Alone in the world she thought light to be life, 
Some eye would discern her form; 

But she died in the light, while the wind’s shrill fife 
Piped a dirge to the driving storm. 


CANTO II 


THE PROBLEM OF LIFE 

I 

In life’s calm twilight hour my soul would move 
Most softly in this world where light is dim, 
Where mere assumptive words are hard to prove, 
And where great stars do wander to the rim 
Of the unknowable. 


Into the arms 

Of mother silence I would lay my doubts, 

And simply trust that nothing vital harms 

The soul that is the friend of truth, that routs 
Earth’s daring reckless wrongs. 

To be a friend 

Of that which is eternal and abides, 

Is blessedness supreme; the stars defend 
The soul that to the One its all confides. 

There moves in all the world one Spirit, kind, 

One aim in myriad forms of vital force, 

The aim, the sympathies of men to bind 

In one pure song harmonious with its Source. 

One image like Himself our God has made, 

And seeks all souls to blend in one refrain; 

Our vibrant notes shall into silence fade 

Unless with God we blend in one pure strain. 

His amplitude of succor knows no bound, 

Entombs all tears and tremors in its fold, 

No depth nor scope of woe it cannot sound, 

Nor from His own, sweet solace will withhold. 
25 


26 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Then raise the altar through laborious days, 
Confiding, cleave the wood, and He is there; 

Though much prolonged contrition’s sad delays, 
God’s patience waits to answer to our prayer. 

To reach susceptive state of sacred mind, 

And live the holy life that walks with God, 

The purest moral attributes refined 

Must choose the cleansing course the Christ has 
trod. 

The autumn haw with thorn and berry red, 

The hue and cry of every noble strife, 

The purest moral joy with sorrow wed, 

Reveal the crimson shade of sacrifice. 

We never truly live at all until 

For others’ good we spend our kindly years, 

And nobly seek their saddened lives to fill 
With comrade cheer more cordial than tears. 

How sadly transient are love’s joys we seek, 

Companions brief, so soon we’re called to part. 

We smile, then scarcely dry upon the cheek 
With sudden gush again the teardrops start. 

Though one by one the flickering embers pale, 

The light grow dim, and sparks die down to 
earth; 

Yet green wood ever grows in verdant dale 
To feed the flames, while ashes fill the hearth. 

Rut who shall occupy the vacant chair, 

So desolate, that stands before the grate, 

When both the silver grey, and golden hair, 

In earth’s embrace, rest low in ashen state! 

We walk ’mid flowers to reach life’s sadder state, 
And lichened rocks but playfully inveigh; 

Sorrow’s impending mists most densely great 
Distil to rainbow dust when dawns the day. 


THE PROBLEM OF LIFE 


27 


The tremulous choking sense of loneliness 
Through fugue glides into harmonies supreme, 
As sunny rays our heavy eyelids press 

With kissing light when waking from a dream. 

There ever breathes throughout the filial world 
A kindred air of an immortal love 
As pure as fleecy cirrus clouds unfurled, 
Surmounting carnal cravings far above. 

II 

The saffron shades of summer’s end, 

And slant-rayed golden sun, 

With penciled tints its rich beams send, 
Report a race most run. 

The year has toiled its way along 
And reached its golden fruit, 

Through frost and storm, and warbled song, 
By many a winding route. 

The lustrous pomp of autumn sheen 
’Mid gorgeous sunset hue, 

Combines the shades of fading green 
And sky of azure blue 

With golden fruit, and leaflet sere, 

And vines incarnadined, 

A banquet of the ripened year, 

’Mid glories all convened. 

From sentiment to sympathy 
The soul would softly glide, 

For nobler than winged reverie 
Are feelings deified. 

The silent sphere glides softly on, 

Awaits with patient care 
The changing haps and mishaps won 
Through gloom and sunny glare. 


28 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Man’s youthful spirit brisk and brave 
Would wreck mundane success, 

Would shed impetuous blood to save 
The world from selfishness. 

And yet we love the ardent youth, 

The fervent souls who dare; 

For soon, too soon, old age forsooth, 
Decoys us to its lair. 

The fervid, ardent, supple, strong, 

Incite chivalric praise, 

Such seem to speed the world along 
Through slow laborious days. 

But deeds of mediocrity 

Ne’er crown with perfect grace, 

Nor cloven-footed century 
Can speed the human race. 

’Tis time, slow time, and far prolonged, 
That builds a perfect world, 

That sees things righted fair, then wronged 
In the arena hurled. 

The insect breathes one day’s air free, 
Then dies in stilly night; 

A comrade of the century 
Is man’s accorded right. 

The parent of a million germs 
Of insects in the grove 

Can neither know nor love the sperms 
That wriggle in the cove. 

The beast soon wearies of its young, 

And mutely lets it roam 

Early matured in hoof and tongue 
To seek a wildwood home. 

The mother bird its nested young 
Soon urges to the wing; 


THE PROBLEM OF LIFE 


29 


The warbled notes they never sung 
Themselves must learn to sing. 

But home is where affections cling 
Through copious cultured years, 

Where parent trains the slow offspring, 
In patience plans and rears. 

Our God has twined around His world 
A myriad years of care, 

His scroll of love fully unfurled 
Would show affections rare. 

The endless ages that revolve 
Entwining love’s sweet ties, 

Unite firm bonds which ne’er dissolve 
Though age of ages dies. 

The souls that pass death’s portal shade 
Enter into a sphere 

Where golden summers never fade, 

Nor verdure e’er grows sere; 

Where character can ne’er decay, 

The fruit of cultured soul, 

Where worth of things matures to stay, 
While endless ages roll. 

There fondness in its endlessness 
Is twined around the sphere 

Of joy and peace and righteousness, 
Where God is more than near. 

There pure affections e’er allure, 

And severance is unknown; 

Where love through aeons shall endure, 
A seed-germ ever sown. 

Such goal awaits the soul engraved 
By heavenly tone and look; 

The vale of death is golden paved, 

And free from haunted nook. 


30 


QUEST AND QUERY 
III 


The sinner’s heaven is oft but mountain cave 
In which his booty lies. When justice wakes, 
He nimbly scuttles to his lair to save 

His game, and guilty self. With comrade rakes 
He faithfully defends the narrow path 
To his exclusive God-made temple-den; 

By simply trusting heaven, escapes the wrath 
Of right, and sallies forth to sin again. 

Thus he deprives the soul of noble name 
Who makes of it a thing that just believes, 

Takes wreathes of alien leaves to cover shame, 
And makes the cross of Christ a den of thieves. 

An apotheosis of self abounds 
In circumstance as well as deity, 

The praise of smug machinemade good resounds, 
Secured by simply lisping, peccavi. 

God’s incarnation’s sadly misconceived 
As ending in one character supreme, 

A deified redeemer once reprieved 

In lieu of men indwelt e’er to redeem. 

IV 

Happy God, not gone astray, 

To enshrine Himself in clay; 

In the meadow, 

Leaflets yellow, 

In the rainbow of the spray, 

God disports Himself alway. 

Far away in ancient day 
God incarnate in frail clay 
Stooped to childhood, 

Lived in wildwood. 

Old is God, but never grey; 

Young is God in youthful play. 


THE PROBLEM OF LIFE 


3i 


Generous God, who came to stay 
Tenanted in human clay; 

Boyhood loyal, 

Manhood royal, 

Feels the grace of godly sway 
Regnant in the world today. 

V 

The martial spirit ardent with keen zest 

For bold adventurous deeds laughs at the thought 
Of pain and death. Man sometime soon in quest 
Must tread an unexplored domain, for aught 
He knows, more joyous than the vapid world 
O’er which he roams. 

The brave that boldly fought 
His way through guns, and squads of men, and 
hurled 

Defiance into mouths of cannon, hot 
With breath which purges cowardice, firm goes 
Unvanquished still and unappalled toward 
A goal through torturing flame and death, last foes 
That intervene between his unctious nard, 

His sweet elysium. 


Into his life earth’s night 
Descends, the pale white marble mask of death 
Creeps o’er his countenance, and the bright light 
Of his once luminous eyes fades with his breath 
As life goes out and leaves a glassy stare. 

The sickly is the sentimental soul 
That clings to earthly things; the strong can dare 
The thought of death, and reach a higher goal. 

Imperial paranoics drunk with power 
Prepare to smite the nations into song, 

But fumbling, find too late in fatal hour, 

That music never trebles from the wrong. 


32 


QUEST AND QUERY 


By no bold brilliant plunging leaps is right 

Attained, though millions mad are plunged to 
doom. 

Nature abhors what is abrupt; the night 
Is joined to day by slowly leisured loom 
Of silent light. By unremitting crawl 
The centuries insinuate their claims. 

Time’s stable treasures are decoyed by call 
Of gentle means allied with noble aims. 

Nor might makes right, nor force makes just, for¬ 
sooth ; 

Truth is, and leisured facts slowly entail. 
Authority for truth lies in the truth 
Itself; no other surety can avail. 

Athletic coarse miscalculating war, 

The cancer of the centuries, works death 
And greedy dissolution, blights which mar 
Life’s rich maturity. Yet vital breath 
Itself may be maturity; our art 

And science mere by-products of our life, 

Which from inbreathing spirit had its start, 

And flows most swiftly by the drum and fife 
To meet its destiny. 


The ripened fruit 
Is only food for seed, and fertile graft, 
Clear-cut, transplanted into stock to suit 
A boundless sphere of spirit-life, is craft 
Above mere plastic statue crystallized. 

Let not the virile strength of clay, that links 
The pilgrim soul to space, be solemnized 

As norm of perfect life. The soul that shrinks 
From death is immature. 


And yet to kill 

To make alive, involuntary end 
Attained, is not bold statute of the will, 
But irritating yoke to which we bend. 


THE PROBLEM OF LIFE 


33 


Unwilling happiness does not exist; 

And good achieved by doing others wrong 
Is oxymoron of bold satirist. 

Love’s suicide may work an endless song; 

Bold suicide for therapeutic good 

To men may work remedial betterment. 

The normal course of man well understood 
Demands no hasty death as aliment 
For slow-advancing moral life, since man 
Is God-expressive in his noblest make 
And higher moral mood. The world began 
With life, and not with death, or moral ache. 

Law makes men sinners, freedom makes them men, 
And mammon makes the thieves, both small and 
great ; 

Established law remains, but moral ken 
And human need have no immobile state. 

VI 

List, my soul, to the music 
That is wafted on the breeze, 

The stalwart theme so rustic 
Of the beautiful life of trees. 

The leaves clasp hands in the circle 
Of their rounded habitat, 

And join in the charming rustle 
Of their blithesome social chat. 

The strong grand trunk gigantic 

Of the rough-barked grey-hued tree 
Displays his form majestic 
In the spray of the leaflet sea. 

It is dignity clothed with verdure, 

The strength of the heart of things, 

The source of life’s true nurture 
From which fairest beauty springs. 


QUEST AND QUERY 

The beautiful leaf is vernal, 

The trunk of a century’s age, 

And the whole grand plan supernal 
Springs from a primeval stage; 

From the heat of gaseous orbits 
To streams of liquid sand, 

From cooling moistened islets 
To pulvered fertile land; 

Through the grinding throes of torture, 
And the well-milled grist of time, 
Evolves true beauty’s charter, 

And the worth of things sublime. 

VII 

List, my soul, to the music 
From among the nested trees, 

The thrilling notes seraphic 
Of the bird-life’s ecstasies. 

The sensitive life of instinct 
Excels the grace of the tree, 

As far as its widening precinct 
Encircles the restless sea. 

From the buoyant life of the ocean 
To the soft sweet trills of the bird, 
From life high and low of emotion, 

The cadence of music is heard. 

The exhilarant feeling of freedom 
Incites sentient life to soar, 

Or stealthily prowl through the kingdom 
Where the ravenous lions roar. 

From stratagem’s violent turmoil 
By nature’s subtle law, 

And hunger’s bestial recoil 
Ferocious in tooth and claw, 


THE PROBLEM OF LIFE 


35 


Spring the glint of the varied plumage 
And the mottled leopard’s skin, 

To protect from plunder’s rampage 
By deception’s scenic gin. 

For beauty in every station 

In the world’s wide complement 
Is harmonious adaptation 
To becoming environment. 

VIII 

List, my soul, to the music, 

The song of the human soul, 

The purest emotion intrinsic 

Amid spheres that symphoniously roll. 

For the cultured sense of reason 
Excels the grace of the tree, 

As the luscious fruit in its season, 

The stone’s insipidity; 

As the sacred sense of duty 
Transcends the senseless sod, 

The superior lines of beauty 
Have environment in God. 

So sons clasp hands in the circle 
Of their spiritual habitat, 

In the spiral of painful struggle 
Which divine device begat. 

Through the grinding throes of torture, 

And the well-milled grist of time, 

Evolves true freedom’s charter, 

And the worth of things sublime. 

IX 

How strangely to our highest goal we’re driven 
’Long paths our selfish will would never choose; 


36 QUEST AND QUERY 

Our sunny skies by darkening clouds are riven 
That heaven may work the good we would refuse. 
The truest things with holden eyes are seen, 

Immortal feeling comes through means that kill; 
The quality that gleams with golden sheen 
Is graved and burnished by the grinding mill. 

We live by dying, learn the truth by plaint; 

’Tis death alone that can our life fulfil. 

With meaning stands in every graveyard quaint 
A cloistered church, whose vaulted room is still 
The scene of old and young who gather there 
To bow the knee in reverential grace, 

And then in solemn service to repair 
To excavated sepulchre, therein to place 
The tender form of loved one laid to rest. 

In silence there amid the countless stones, 

The monitors of transient men addressed 
By graven epitaphs above the bones 
Of mortal forms at rest in mossy tomb, 

The thoughtful questioner stands in pensive 
mood. 

What are the ecstasies, and what the doom, 

Of men who wrought the gentle and the rude? 

The countless mortals come and swiftly go, 

And cast their shadows on a transient scene, 
Aerial spectral film of weal and woe, 

Like fleeting, quivering wraith upon a screen. 

The autumn sun smiles on in silent grace, 

And sheds aslant the hill its golden rays, 

Yet legible as light leaves not a trace 

To guide our way through life’s perplexing maze. 

The brook blithe rippling o’er its pebbled bed 
Purls through the valley neath the drooping eaves 
Of stately trees reflecting tints of red, 

And bears upon its bosom clear the crimson 
leaves. 


THE PROBLEM OF LIFE 


37 


O dying year, O dying life of man! 

Which yields rich fruit, requital for the pain 
Of labored days, and yet which cannot span 
Immortal quest, and feeble days that wane. 

With head uncovered neath the azure dome, 
Where stars appear when sunlight all is gone, 

In faith that through the darkness gleams the home 
Of souls star-guided in reliance on 
The Keeper of the dome, the questioner broods. 

No idle subject fills his throbbing brain, 

But questions sad of life’s strange attitudes, 

The problem of life’s toil, and grievous pain. 


X 

And once again I look into a bleak dark grave, 

But see no light gleam from the nadir of the 
deep, 

And to the very brink the waves of Lethe lave, 
And silence reigns, a long irrevocable sleep. 

Is this forbidding tomb a threshold to the skies? 
An entrance to a zenith home by azure blue 

Soft-curtained from our eyes, beyond whose veil 
there lies 

A paradise? Does earth give answer, or a clue? 

Upon the wings of autumn winds fall leaves amiss, 
And gaunt in anatomic strength the tree stands 
dead, 

While clinging close to rugged bark the chrysalis 
In cocoon shroud rests firm by artful fine-spun 
thread. 

And then I heard a bluebird’s note, heard nature 
sing 

Through piping leaf; the warmth of genial spring 
had stirred 


38 QUEST AND QUERY 

To life the dead gaunt tree; and blithe, full on 
the wing, 

The butterfly arose, celestial insect-bird. 

And yet the gaunt bare tree not dead, but dormant 
stood, 

Nor Lethe-wave had touched the metamorphosed 
worm ; 

But dead, yea dead, lies there my fondest clay, nor 
wood, 

Nor chrysalis explains; cold clay cocoons no germ. 

And yet again I gaze into the grave; I see no light, 

But hear a voice speak to me from the lifeless 
clay: 

“ Tis not the first time I as clay was dead; the 
Might 

That made me live doth never die; I live for 
aye.” 

Seems it incredible that conscious life survives? 

’Tis just as wondrous that we now do live in this 

Our house of clay. Our conscious selves, our puls¬ 
ing lives, 

Whose substance once was dead ere breath of 
God did kiss 

The clay and make us men, await another call. 

The second kiss shall wake a form of nobler 
mould 

To clothe a spirit pure, without decay or fall, 

Embracing an unfading life within its fold. 

The good, the true, the fadeless beautiful, and all 

That goes to make the wealth of love that’s more 
than guest, 

Shall sometime meet, and ever bloom in banquet 
hall, 

Where life communes with life, and bliss no more 
a quest. 


THE PROBLEM OF LIFE 


39 

’Tis all a dream! Soft be the strains that breathe 
the lay; 

A hallowed dream; let muted harpstrings whis¬ 
pering sigh 

An ever hopeful requiem, ere doubt essay 
To strangle faith, or to suppress the lullaby. 

Death is a solemn silent night. While dreamers fail 
To see the dawn of day, or breathe the dirges 
due, 

The shattered seal, and stammering stone by earth¬ 
quake, hail 

A living testamental Lord with lulliloo. 

Within the realm of the half-known subtly abides 
The beautiful, where imagery must minister 
To truth, insinuating hints where surety hides; 

In mystery’s sphere dwells life’s secret artificer. 

XI 

A wise unslumbering Shepherd nightly keeps, 

And guards my waking hours. His judgment 
reigns, 

Nor goodness nods; let mortal troubles sleep. 

H is life feeds mine, and courses in my veins. 

Beneath the silent sky with upturned face 
Man looks into the vast uncolumned dome, 
Where breathes throughout the realm of boundless 
space 

A deep consolatory calm. 

There thoughts may roam, 
And nimbly climb upon the Milky Way 
Into the spheres of dim uncertainty; 

’Mid stardust brood, and seek some searching ray 
To pierce the folds which screen sublimity. 


40 


QUEST AND QUERY 


And yet, why seek to plumb infinity 
To find the purposes of God, when lo! 

He tabernacles in simplicity, 

And feels with us in common weal and woe. 

God moves and acts more simply than we think, 
More closely companies our feeble steps 

Than some uncertain power on the brink 

Of boundless realms unreached in soundless 
depths. 

He in me is while I interrogate, 

And while I seek to plumb His will profound, 

He opens in my presence wide the gate 

To answers clear, which thickly flood me round. 

He moves in all the world so spiritwise, 

So fills with meaning every common scene, 

’Tis vain to grope through separating skies, 

When He, a reconciling bond between 

Our aspiration and its goal, so near 
Us moves, so current in our lives, 

As makes our every movement hinge in sheer 
Dependence on His will, which in us strives. 

XII 

When the evening hour grows lonesome, 

And the crimson sun is set, 

The review of life finds welcome, 

Waking truths we ne’er forget. 

’Mid the brightest day we blindly 
Gaze with hasty thoughtless view, 

Scatter words and deeds unkindly, 

Reckon false what oft is true. 

But the scenes in second vision 
Softened by the twilight ray, 

Now reveal with clear decision 
Lasting worth of vanished day. 


THE PROBLEM OF LIFE 


4i 


And our thoughts still backward surging 
Flow into the distant past, 

And the heart with homesick urging 
Drifts into an ocean vast. 

Closely linked with drifting current 
Is the God of oceans wide, 

By whose guiding hand deterrent 
Moves the course of drifting tide. 

Ever back or forward going 
Flows into the thought of Him, 

When we cross the line of knowing 
Into oceans vast and dim. 

And our thoughts are not all driftwood, 
Nor the sea without a shore, 

Though becalmed the mood of manhood, 
There’s a port that lies before. 

Not a deep, but has its treasure, 

Every labyrinth its door; 

When becalmed, we take our measure, 
Plan progression more and more. 

After drifting on thought’s ocean 
Into realms beyond our ken, 

We return with waked devotion 
To the world of living men. 

And we judge with tender sentence, 
Knowing that we too are men; 

Hearts subdued by meek repentance 
Beat with friendship’s pulse again. 

And the past with all its passion, 

Hungry greed and all its gain, 

Now is seen to mould and fashion 
Character in moral stain. 


42 


QUEST AND QUERY 


And the good in men so slighted, 
Crushed and trampled in the fray, 

Now is recognized and knighted, 

And is given right of way. 

Then the angry glance unsparing 
In its flash of scorn has fled, 

And o’er faults that seemed so glaring 
Softer radiance is shed. 

All the voices once appealing 
To our higher sense of right 

Now re-echo in our feeling 
With a mandatory might. 

Thus we travel all the journey 
Back along the path that led 

Through the battle strife and tourney 
To our actions’ fountain head. 

Think not that by thus retracing 
You retard the race you run, 

For in calmness wrong effacing 
Strong you meet the rising sun. 

Happy grace of reminiscence, 

Elders’ charm of reverie; 

Mind loves wandering in the distance 
Musing deeds of bravery. 

Youthful play is preparation 
For the tasks of real life; 

Old age play is contemplation 
Of the meaning of the strife. 

As we find that God is holy, 

Man is made for holiness; 

We to goodness bowing lowly 
Enter into loveliness. 


THE PROBLEM OF LIFE 


43 


In the pensive twilight vision 
We perceive how motives cross, 
How deserving of derision 
Is the sense of selfish loss. 

Sorrow for the wrongs committed 
In pursuit of sordid pelf 
Is a feeling but half-witted, 

If referred to greedy self. 

Erring lives need double penance 
For their flagrant deeds of wrong, 
Since false attitude whose tenance 
In the heart, so daring, strong, 

Prompts the soul basely to venture 
In the course of reckless deed, 
Sinuous marks the deep indenture 
Guiding to the goal of greed. 

Of both attitude and action 
Must the guilty soul repent; 

Not enough of satisfaction 
Is it merely to relent. 

Mayhap in voluptuous living 
Delicately bold we sin, 

Without conscience, or misgiving, 
For the fault that dwells within, 

As we sip our poisonous potion 
From luxurious cups of mirth, 
Washing clean by cunning’s lotion 
The veneer of feigned worth. 

Arrogant as flaunting rebel 

Fain we would in freedom roam, 
Deeming constancy a hovel 
Rather than capacious home. 


QUEST AND QUERY 

But the scene in second vision 
Softened by the twilight ray, 

Now reveals with clear decision 
Noble truths we would obey. 

And the homesick heart in surging, 
Drifting on an ocean vast, 

Homing bends by Spirit’s urging, 

Finds its rest in God at last. 

For our dreams are not all driftwood, 
Nor the sea without a shore; 

Though becalmed the mood of manhood, 
There’s a port that lies before. 


CANTO III 


THE PROBLEM OF PAIN 

I 

In the circuit of being 

There are movements that thrill, 
Emotions of fervor, 

And tremors that chill. 

When close to the sun 
At an angle oblique 
The kisses of winter 
Congeal on the cheek. 

The soul that is conscious 
Of a world that is wide, 

Finds eulogized blossoms, 

And hoarfrosts that chide. 


II 

There are melancholy strains afloat, 

Which we fain would shun, and yet must love, 
As the sad and weird ventriloquist note 
Of the not far distant wild wood-dove. 

The sad deep look of the tear-dimmed eye 
Reveals the soul in its sacred deep; 

The carmine lips with quivering sigh 
Rouse somnolent life from its idle sleep. 

45 


46 QUEST AND QUERY 

Some things lie deep in the human heart, 

Which delight’s glad thrill can never reach, 

The poignant throb, acute pain’s retort, 

The delectable truth must distil and teach. 

Something sweet and soft like the wild dove’s coos, 
Or distillation of sacred tears, 

Pain’s pitiful call that elicits and woos, 

Wake virtues that hallow our ripening years. 

For close to the tear is the smile as nigh 
As the wild wood-dove’s ventriloquist note, 
And beguiling grief is a ventriloquist sigh 
Of the jubilant joy which is never remote. 

As accident’s slips effect minor tone 

But to glide into consonant majors of grace, 

The tremors of sorrow are never alone, 

But bear lyric joys in their mobile embrace. 

For harrowing grief is a stranger guest, 

And tarries but through the timorous night; 
The sad strains of sorrow resolve in the breast 
Into joy which returns with the jocund light. 

Ill 

How grandly rolls our world in sunlight pure 
Along majestic path invisible, 

Cimmerian clouds but transiently obscure 
Earth’s azure robe blended with isabel. 

’Mid worldly satellites the glowing suns 
Invade the vastness of unmeasured space, 
Through which our sunlit sphere in swiftness runs 
An intricate but calculable race. 

The bud bursts forth in blooming fragrant flower, 
The bird ecstatic trills its canticle, 

And brooklet murmurs through the wooded bower 
Baptizing nature’s sweet conventicle. 


THE PROBLEM OF PAIN 


47 


When streamlets run their circuit wide, and rise 
In mist to form the lurid lowering cloud, 

They change the azure blue to sullen skies, 

And distant summits of the mount enshroud 

With gloom that floats impending o’er the plain. 
The shallow brook that sparkles in its rills, 

Ascends in mist, returning in the rain, 

In kissing dewdrops on the rose distils, 

Becomes the seat of lightning’s cutting flash, 
Whose thunderbolt detones above the hills, 

And quakes and rends the earth with vivid crash, 
And dulcet blithesome birdnote sternly stills. 

The rugged oak is strained in every nerve 
By tempest torrent smiting from the skies, 

Prolific rains the tree’s true nature serve, 

Though strenuous storms attend the rich supplies. 

The sun ’mid heaven’s blue makes pleasure-day, 
Refreshing storms sweep clear the cloudy sky; 

When tempests rage in terrible affray 
The timid mind entreats the reason why. 

A bracing structure of firm vertebra, 

Gives graceful motions their resilient tone; 

The peach-bloom cheeks their superb colors draw 
From healthy state of strong subsisting bone. 

Though love transcend strict justice far above, 
Indulgence fondles life with cruelty; 

The holiness of justice makes for love, 

A love imperative in purity. 

The soul clad in a conscience unrefined, 

Incapable its blemished state to see, 

That lacks mentality of moral kind, 

Needs pain to give to self its master-key. 


48 


QUEST AND QUERY 


IV 

Listen to me, my heart, 

And wisely know 
How feebly framed thou art! 

Now bends the bow, 

And where shall rest the dart! 

The sturdy father falls; 

The playful boy 
Heeds not the grief that palls; 

Yet lives the toy, 

And laughter in the halls. 

Yet who would laden youth 
With fruitless care; 

In merriment there’s truth, 

And freedom rare 
As found in forest booth. 

The widowed heart, and sad, 
Sees in the play 
Of blithesome happy lad 
The fragile clay 
In which our joys are clad. 

But play preludes life’s dream 
Implanting worth; 

And grief o’er things that seem 
Gives healthy birth 
To gifts that are supreme. 

Our dreams are fashioned by 
Some earthly scheme; 

But God brings in the sigh, 
Whose fruits redeem 
From charms which crucify. 

Listen, my heart, to me, 

Made better by 


THE PROBLEM OF PAIN 


49 


The precious things I see, 

Just as I try 
To climb on bended knee. 

My fragile heart is weak, 

But purpose strong; 

So murmurless and meek 
I catch the song 
Of harmonies that speak. 

After the dirge and knell 
The saddened heart 
Gives heed to Easter bell. 

The teardrops smart, 

But soothe the sobs that swell. 

V 

The delicate insect, 

A moment of thought 
Incarnate in matter 

Most wondrously wrought, 

By flashes of beauty 
From nature distilled, 

In tiniest measure 

By sentiency thrilled, 

Is crushed in the tourney 
Of the day’s rapid tread, 

A minute that sparkled, 

A second that bled. 

The century’s comrade, 

The ineffable man, 

The being most sentient 
Whose thought-waves span 

The ether of aeons, 

Life’s promising youth, 

And the prime of creation, 
The granite of truth, 


50 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Feels ecstasy’s pleasure, 

And the susceptible bane 
Of the anguish of suffering, 

And the writjiing of pain, 

From the Adam of error 

To the great judgment throne, 
Where exploits of achievement 
Meet requitals full-blown. 

In the soul there’s the pulsing 
Of pleasure and pain, 

Excesses ecstatic 

Of one vibrant strain. 

There is food for the vulture, 

For the panther the prey, 

The delight of the talon, 

Frisky zest of the fray. 

The trills of the catbird 
No insects revere, 

With the purr of the leopard 
Is the timid doe’s fear. 

High heaven has its Satan 
With misfortunes of Job, 

Sedatest decorum 

With diseases that probe. 

By drift, or designing, 

Evolves the world’s state? 

Can the querulous critic 
A better create? 

At ecstasy’s fountain 
Our wills fall asleep, 
Contentments determined 

Leap from well-springs more deep. 


THE PROBLEM OF PAIN 


5i 


The cloud so impending, 

Heaven’s savage tattoo, 

Is a mote friendly germal 
In the sky’s azure blue. 

VI 

O Boreas, so cold and fierce, 

I weary of thy aching chill, 

Thy frosts like poisoned arrows pierce, 
Death rigor grips the limpid rill. 

I trace thy footprints on the snow 
Like ripple marks upon the sand; 

O Wind! I see thee fright the roe, 

That timorous flees the hunter’s hand. 

I hear thee moaning ’mid the trees, 

And sighing through the bushes wild, 

And mimicking the gentle breeze, 

Which wafts and murmurs soft and mild. 

’Mid winter’s frost in stormy night 
I dream of zephyrs floating o’er 
iTolian harps with fingers light 

Awakening strains of days of yore; 

But waking, hear the whistling gale, 

And rustling leaves on creaking bough 
Moan forth their sad and mournful tale 
Of lack of burial neath winter’s snow. 

And dreaming still, I feel the soft 
Sweet cooling balm of summer air 
Float o’er me soothingly, as oft 

In nights with twinkling starlight fair; 

When at the approach of Phoebus’ beams 
Diana flees in trembling fear, 

And parting, consecrates my dreams 
With printed kiss and dew-drop tear. 


QUEST AND QUERY 


52 

Then soughing winds disturbing rest, 

I feel that frost with icy breath 

Hath on my cheek the kiss impressed, 

And Daphne feels the throes of death. 

O Boreas, with icy frost, 

With hoary beard and silvered crest, 

All nature hath her verdure lost, 

Yet dwells no pity in thy breast? 

The tongueless caverns deeply groan, 

The rocks before thy frost must quail, 

The trembling trees their fate bemoan, 
When thou dost beat with ceaseless gale. 

O pity, then, thy Bay Tree small, 

For withering now my head inclines; 

O pity! pity! for I fall 

In the snowy sheet that round me winds. 

The shrieking wind with angry blast 
Smites ruthlessly upon her head; 

In cold embrace he holds her fast, 

One quivering throb, fair Daphne’s dead. 

O mystery! elusive, sad, 

So smothered in thy hidden deeps; 

Our weary minds shall find them glad 
To fall into a thousand sleeps. 

VII 

Vain are the void vagaries idly held 

By those who say this world contains no ill, 

Who seek the links of logic’s chain to weld 
In proof that man has but a nominal will 

Impelled unmoral by necessity 

Of forces far beyond his thought’s control; 

Insisting evil’s wide complexity 

Is but a scare in man’s discursive soul. 


THE PROBLEM OF PAIN 


53 


Intoxicated by entrancing dreams, 

He never deeply thinks who never feels 
Pain’s poignant current, which in flooding streams 
Of moral pangs o’er wakened conscience steals. 

Low vice is left for man to be the heir, 

The surplus of man’s rightful appetite, 

Bold to transgress, deliberate to dare 
The laws of one’s own bodily right. 

Then follows crime, a civic legal term, 

A base transgression of man’s social law, 
Chastising which, with sentence strict and firm, 
Society cold prison doors must draw. 

The philosophic mind the scene reviews. 

And calls these phases of disordered life 
An evil, which in all its varied hues 
Reveals ascending man as fruit of strife. 

But God, who sees the whole in moral view, 

Who notes all maladies of moral kin, 

And counts all things in terms of false and true, 
With judgment ripe rates human wrongs a sin. 

Man’s disobedient wilful act of wrong, 

Despite the claims of lucid conscience clear, 
Gives birth to sins which round him thickly throng, 
And fill his mind with ever haunting fear. 

And sins their thousand evils then begin, 

Which follow in the wake of every good; 
Though evil in itself may not be sin, 

A clear distinction should be understood. 

A natural law in simple form transgressed 
By man or beast, by bird, or insect frail, 

Entails an unintentional ill expressed 
In injured life, that follows in the trail. 


54 QUEST AND QUERY 

But moral law, a mandate for the will, 

Transgressed despite clear reason’s ethic call, 

Creates the sin, whose crafty arts instil 

The banal thoughts which cause man’s moral fall. 

The soul that says no evil lurks on earth, 

That life by sin’s strong passion is not tossed, 

Dreams in a realm of vain unmeaning mirth, 
Entranced enthusiast in vision lost. 

The anguished tear-stained face is just as real 
As dew'-besprinkled sweetly scented rose; 

The moral sensibility can feel 

As tender bud ’gainst which the north wind 
blows. 


VIII 

The summer was gay, 

And blithe was the day 
When we sailed from Italy. 
My babe and I 
Sobbed a sad good-bye 
To fairest Neapoli. 

My lover awaits 
Beyond the straits 
My coming from Italy, 

To greet his bride 
And the babe beside, 

In the land of Liberty. 

The sea was as glass 
And mirrored the lass 
That gazed in the liquid deep. 
And we dreamed of the land 
And the warm clasping hand 
In the hours of tossing sleep. 


THE PROBLEM OF PAIN 


55 


But a cool starry night 
Gave fevered blight 
To the babe upon my breast. 

Ere the week was done, 

Or the Sabbath begun, 

My babe was a coffin’s guest. 

And the waves raged high 
And the sea surged by 
To offer my babe a rest; 

A little pine box 

Enclosed curly locks 

Of my babe now priestly blest. 

And they lowered my treasure 
In thrice holy measure 
Indipping the briny sea; 

And then like a flash 
With a wild sudden splash 
My babe was parted from me. 

Oh, thrice holy Mary! 

Is it thus I must bury 
My babe in the deep, deep sea! 
Where the waves never cease, 

Nor breathes mother’s peace; 

Sweet Mary, commiserate me. 

Ah, the joy so brief! 

Then the boundless grief 

Of my babe in the fathomless deep; 

’Mid corals of sand 

With no soothing hand 

Lies my babe in its motherless sleep. 

And thousands of miles 
With comfortless guiles 
They hurried my presence away, 

Till we saw in the night 
The pale starry light 
Of the beacon in the bay. 


56 


QUEST AND QUERY 


But my heart was afar 
From the glimmering star, 

Away on the boundless sea, 

In a fathomless grave 
Where the wild waves rave 
In a ceaseless agony. 

Woe! Woe! is me; 

There is no liberty 

For the heart that is bound to the deep; 

For all day long 

Sounds the plaintive song 

Of the swells that moan and weep. 

My heart ever cries 
With the ocean’s sighs 
And trundles as the sea; 

For far away 

On the ocean grey 

My memories smother me. 

My home is no more 
On the distant shore 
Of fairest Neapoli; 

Nor e’en at hand 
In the promised land, 

The haven of Liberty. 

For I live by day, 

And my nights dream away 
Where the surges shriek woe to me; 

For my babe’s asleep 
In the fathomless deep 
Of the soothless moaning sea. 

IX 

No sterile sentimental thoughts can solve 

The torturing throes of our keen-suffering lives; 
The weird and sad complexities dissolve 
Alone for him whose moral spirit strives. 


THE PROBLEM OF PAIN 


57 


With trembling light that twinkles round about 
In partial rays through our dim consciousness, 

God gently lifts the shadows of our doubt, 

And dissipates the sternness of distress. 

If God at every point be everywhere 

In thought or space throughout the universe, 

Dynamic and pervasive presence there 

Gives Him acquaintance comprehensive, terse, 

With every phase of being and of thought; 

For omnipresence gathers in its fold 

Omniscience of all things e’er planned or wrought, 
A knowledge vast, colossal sense untold. 

For God to know all things with their intent, 
Acquaintance with relations wide and deep, 

Constructs a life, in which all powers pent 
Can infinite impediments o’erleap. 

For He who everywhere knows everything 
Can mould and wield relations fully known; 

Omnipotence which crowns omniscient King 
Now occupies an omnipresent throne. 

God leaves no footprints on the mobile sea, 

Whose saline surges play about His feet, 

The God whose thought maps out eternity 

Is not disturbed when transient wild waves beat. 

The wind at His command makes quick retreat, 
And boisterous waves like naughty children sob 

Themselves to sleep at His pacific feet, 

For nought from Him His sovereign peace can 
rob. 

For man, life’s problem is insoluble, 

Elusive, shifting in dissolving view; 

Yet grace of calm assurance voluble 
Avers for all these mysteries a clue. 


58 QUEST AND QUERY 

Confused by tortuous tangle of the threads, 
Implicit things we calmly may aver: 

A moral purpose broadly beating treads 

This path o’erspread with thorn and jagged burr. 


In labyrinthine mystery still involved 
We take this attitude of confidence, 

That moral sense acute has oft dissolved 

The harbored thought of God’s incompetence. 

X 


The sun has set, 

The blushing clouds his parting ray has kissed. 
The grass is wet, 

Bathed in the dew-drops and the silvery mist. 
Endymion sleeps; 

The willow weeps 

O’er arid bed of once blithe rippling brook. 

The moping owl comes forth from stilly nook. 

O’er all the land 

With silent grace nocturnal shadows creep, 

With gentle hand 

The furrowed aching brow to soothe to sleep. 

The darkness steals 

The lingering beams that stay the hastening gloom; 
The lone heart feels 

The silence chill that fills the echoing room. 

In solemn moods 
The spirit broods 

O’er worlds of deeds, of lofty ardent thought, 
That in the actual world have come to nought. 

The lithe weird form, 

The ghostly shapes, that leap from flickering grate, 
The soul alarm, 

As shadows flung upon the wall by fate. 


THE PROBLEM OF PAIN 


59 


A rising star 

Through window pane with hopeful brightening 
ray 

Beams from afar, 

A seal of promise, guide star to the day 
Of holy light 
Succeeding night. 

A world of deeds, of lofty ardent thought, 

Revives, inspires the soul to wisdom brought. 

The lithe weird form, 

The ghostly shapes, that leap from flickering grate 
The soul to harm, 

Are seraphs beckoning to a higher state. 

XI 

I know not where I am in this dim path 
Which leads me on, but I may happy be 
And rest assured there is an aftermath 
To dreamlike sentiments of reverie. 

The mind of prudent man is tentative 
’Mid problems deep of philosophic trend; 
Meantime his sober thoughts are relative 
To scaling steps which to the goal ascend. 

My thoughts may not convince, nor yet coerce 
The pensive minds of fellow-thinking men; 

I simply would express myself, disperse, 

Perchance, some clouds which hover o’er the fen. 

And now I will move on most happily 
Along the path that’s brightest to my view, 

And cheer my quickened heart more sturdily 
To face bold doubt, though answers may be few. 

To know there is a problem is a thing 
Expressive in itself, a fertile thought; 

For man contemplative his flight will wing 
Amid the mist, since agile mind has caught 


6o 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Some tangled threads that dangle from the woof 
And warp of some whole-woven piece of truth. 
That man has found a clue brings no full proof 
That he has leaped the bounds of puzzled youth, 

And grasped the meaning of life’s tangled maze. 

But this it shows, that in his saddest plight 
He is a child of deity, whose upward gaze 
Distinctive in its scope achieves the right 

To pierce the gloom, and see the Father’s face. 

Such glorious goal is well worth living for, 

And direst ills worth living through; to trace 
The path there ever shines some luminous star. 

XII 

How strange seems the past when reviewed by a 
gaze 

Illumined by rays which reflection may give, 

A survey enlightened by many a phase 

Of the related scenes in which we now live. 

The past that has baffled our worthy attempt 
Did something to make other deed opportune; 
Some value of which the soul never dreamt 
Comes artfully in as a substitute boon. 

We think of the deeds which we once might have 
done, 

And wish that our life we might live o’er again, 
Not noting the virtues that failures have won, 
The stiffness for burdens that makes stalwart 
men. 

In the world’s strange composure who is able to tell 
Were it wiser for man all his ills to forestall, 

If endurance of pain, which he fain would repel, 

Be a means to an end that is nobler than all. 


THE PROBLEM OF PAIN 


61 


How often are beauty and symmetry marred 
By a too hasty turn of an unfinished leaf; 

The deeds of the world in development scarred 
By impatience paying an exorbitant fief. 

The unrevealed future we should never invade, 
Nor pierce through the folds of the curtaining 
veil, 

To rehearse disappointment by nervous parade, 

In prevision reading woe’s sorrowing tale. 

The future unknown with bright hopes made 
replete 

Disperses the gloom of unrealized good; 

The future if known would be baleful to meet, 
For our provident God would be misunderstood. 

XIII 

There is a stellar sphere of noblest fame 
Whence moral aspiration hears a voice, 

Which calls to souls susceptible, who claim 
Affinity to rank of lordly choice. 

And he who hearkens to the urgent call 
Ascends by steps toward the lofty goal; 

Susceptibility embraces all 

That’s requisite to stir the visioned soul. 

A mastery of facts engages well 

The youthful mind in its aspiring scope, 

The facile proud ability to tell 

The sense of things ’mid which the stupid grope. 

Then mastery of forces is the aim, 

The power to use the facts which youth has 
learned, 

Wealth to achieve, to win a fragrant name, 

To reach the goal to which his life is turned. 


62 


QUEST AND QUERY 


But culture comes by mastery of self, 

The final step that rises to the goal, 

Vain vaunting pride deposed, that rules by pelf, 

A haughty mood that sails o’er risky shoal. 

The joy of strength dwells not with wantonness; 
The life that basks in things ephemeral, 

So pleased with simple empty prettiness, 

Fades with the day of pleasures temporal. 

The soul content with painted pantomime, 

An empty senseless show of transient things, 

Has never grasped the sense of things sublime, 
Nor sought to rise from earth on soaring wings. 

The soul of emptied self may make the flight, 

And void of cumbrous pelf permit the lift; 

The self surrendered to the God of right 

Gets back true self, and God too with the gift. 

XIV 

Ever the spirit of mortal soars 
Into the realms of light, 

Leaving behind the gloaming past 
Verging historic night. 

Ever the spirit of mortal roams 
Over life’s unplumbed sea 

To fathom the depths of truth and love, 

The realms of sublimity. 

Ever the spirit of freedom soars 
Scorning the realms of might, 

Bowing alone to the diadem 
Of reason, truth, and right. 

Ever the spirit of mortal chafes 
In its frail material mould; 

Yet sees in the intricate web of life 
The weaving of threads of gold. 


THE PROBLEM OF PAIN 63 
XV 

The line of least resistance does not rise 
Above the common level of the plain, 

As river never with the mountain vies, 

But downward flows to meet the ocean main. 

True aspiration seeks a higher end 

Than self-submergence in earth’s gift or gain, 
And has no rest till talents upward tend 
By flexures sore, by sacrifice in pain. 

Life’s incomplete when merely self-contained; 

An altruistic outward flow of grace 
Must move in kindly thought and word unfeigned, 
In balanced deed, the social world to brace. 

As God is light, is truly radiant God, 

Himself revealing through His actions great, 
Man’s life is only grandly deep and broad 
When sacrifice of self becomes innate. 

Thus God is love, is truly gracious God, 

Self-giving in His spontaneity; 

And just such path the suffering Saviour trod, 

And showed himself inflamed with deity. 

When all of noblest self is truly won 
By gift of grace, and exercise of love, 

The soul has reached the threshold of the dawn 
That crimson flashes through the sky above. 

The mind delights to have a fertile thought, 

To analyze all phases relevant, 

Then synthesize the principles so brought 
Into one whole with which it’s conversant. 

Thus science builds its systematic store 
Of growing truth in orderly array, 

And from such premises may proudly soar 
To penetrate the laws which worlds obey. 


64 QUEST AND QUERY 

So too, when thought completely owns the man, 
It works him over in its moral mould 

By synthesis of principles which span 

True thought and character by sturdy hold. 

He has his noble thought, and thought has him 
Transformed in properties of moral state; 

His settled mind is subject to no whim, 

Confronts with calmness the decrees of fate. 

Within true harmony of thought and thing 
The soul finds answers to its proper quest, 

And unperturbed by vapid doubt can sing 
Along its way toward the final rest. 

XVI 

My sky is ever azure blue, 

I do not fear the cloud, 

I’ve learned how wisely to construe 
The mists which life enshroud. 

And while some faces fade from earth, 

Yet others grow more kind; 

For every death there is a birth 
Of something good, I find. 

And so I tread the sunny side 
Of every rugged road, 

And would be brave whate’er betide, 

Nor need a prodding goad. 

For what is lost is truly won, 

Some good survives as gain; 

Behind the cloud the sun is gone 
While falls refreshing rain. 

And so I’m glad; though pleasures hide 
I’ll sing my way along, 

And gladly reap at eventide 
The luscious fruit of song. 


THE PROBLEM OF PAIN 


65 


XVII 

The firm unbending stubbornness we see 
Is harmony that cannot be unstrung; 
Concession to eternal right’s the key 
To every symphony that’s yet unsung. 

The only ill to fear is evil will, 

That stands opposed to consonance supreme, 
All things concur God’s purpose to fulfil, 
Events beside are only things that seem. 


The calm assurance of sweet peace with God 
Allays the pangs by which our hearts are wrung; 
He who in patient mien endures the rod 
Can talk with God in a familiar tongue. 

To feel the ecstasy of sweet content, 

Let God attend to things we cannot help; 
Allied to wild calamitous event 

Is offspring soft and mild as lion’s whelp. 


Chivalrous candor frankly must confess, 

With God acquaintance richer is attained 
Through suffering wrong in attitudes that bless, 
Than in a realm where ceaseless ease has reigned. 


A self-consistent character comes forth 

From God-sent righteous sufferings nobly borne, 
That life is likest God in noble worth 

From which the barnacles of earth are torn. 


Life’s optimistic view is not a brief, 

Defending hidden magisterial rule, 

No heedful mind denies that poignant grief 
Is taught in God’s divinely classic school. 


66 


QUEST AND QUERY 
XVIII 


Our souls are stirred by the deeds intense, 

And the songs of chivalry, 

That spring into life to express the sense 
Of the soul’s keen agony. 

A dear friend dares the extremes of pain 
To feelingly tell his love, 

And suffers the pangs of an untold strain 
To furnish a treasure trove. 

The delectable crown is the crown of thorns, 

The only true king is love; 

The broken heart that the proud world scorns 
Can purest affections move. 

’Tis the bruised flower that through wounds exhales 
Sweetest fragrance on the air; 

’Tis the broken heart that at no time fails 
Incarnadine life to spare. 

The inconstant heart draws the line somewhere 
In its sacrifice of pain; 

But the hero is boundlessly willing to dare 
For a friend’s immortal gain. 

XIX 

Our clamorous cries for cures are not unheard, 

But sedatives are not a cure for souls 

Whose soundest health must ever be deferred 
Beyond the state content with partial doles. 

God asks for no defense of His regime, 

But sues for simple patience to the end, 

His vindication comes by gentle gleam 
Of ethic charm in man, to which we tend. 


THE PROBLEM OF PAIN 


67 


The hopeful state is not an empty vain 
Encouragement of mere coincidence; 

God does not view our human stress and strain 
In apathy and cold indifference. 


It is His world, His moral universe, 

His name and glorious prestige are at stake, 
Omnipotence will ne’er abide a curse 
From which no moral issue can awake. 


The seed of error cannot ever choke 

The deathless germ of an immortal truth; 
God said He would His saving powers convoke 
While man still dwelt in patriarchal booth. 


XX 

The birds and flowers have gone away 
To South Land’s smiles; 

Their memories are here to say 
With sweetest wiles. 

The wild geese sail in arrow-flight, 
There’s snow in air; 

And longer grows the quiet night, 
There’s rest from care. 

The summer day is long and bright 
To grow the grain; 

Then swiftly comes long-mused twilight 
To count the gain. 

Let pensive gratitude pervade 
The quiet hour, 

The genial sunshine God has made, 
And clouds that lower. 


68 


QUEST AND QUERY 


XXI 

’Tis unrequited labor that entails 

The woes which curse our economic state, 
Laborious is the toil that always fails 
To rescue from the circumstance we hate. 

Completest occupation is no curse, 

To take away the faintness makes the bliss, 
Supreme emancipation to disperse 

All cumbrous care with sorrow’s emphasis. 

’Tis God’s delight to give us conscious strength, 
That we may run unwearied on our way, 

And prove our robust prowess at full length 
Throughout the buoyancy of sunfilled day. 

XXII 

The wound is healed; 

But just a quiet tear to grace 
And soothe the scar on memory’s face, 

A memoir sealed. 

The star that glides 
Below horizon still shines on 
In other skies to herald dawn; 

God’s love abides. 


CANTO IV 


THE PATH TO PEACE 

I 

Oft in the dim sweet twilight 
After the evening stroll, 
Cravings of heart seek birthright 
In the friendships of the soul. 

Verging a slumbrous village 
Where limestone hillocks roll 
Smile fields of fertile tillage, 

And a home by Rocky Knoll. 

Forging the wealth of sunbeams, 
Pursuing earth’s gain as a goal, 
I materialize my day dreams, 

But peace is at Rocky Knoll. 

Places of earth are dearest 

Where tendrils of fondness twine 
The peace of the heart lies nearest 
To the endearing home called 

Closing the day that’s dreary, 
Whispering winds speak peace, 
Painful the toil and weary, 

Home brings the sweet release. 

Down from the lofty elm tree 
Warbles the robin’s trill, 

The tiny note of the chickadee 
Carols down the grassy hill. 

69 


mine. 


70 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Tall sentinel rocks guard grimly 
Sweet clusters of columbine, 

Snails in their path grope dimly 
Neath shades of the ivy vine. 

Fragrance of climbing roses, 

Tones of the trumpet flower, 

Maples whose arch encloses 
The dream of a summer bower! 

Song of sweet words discloses 
No pleasures with richer toll, 

Than beauty of earth disposes 
In the charms of Rocky Knoll. 

For the worth of all this homing 
Are the friends of kindred soul, 

Who rest in the evening gloaming 
At the foot of Rocky Knoll. 

II 

A star appears betimes piercing the mist 

With jewelled light to show life’s boundless 
scope; 

The twinkling thoughts which faltering doubts 
resist 

Dimly invade the gloom through which we grope. 

The need of man is not more light of sun, 

But clear and penetrating eye to scan 

The lucid scheme of work already done 
In execution of God’s wondrous plan. 

Our peace is incarnation of the calm 

Which has its home in God, the central rest, 

Where all disharmonies resolve in psalm, 

And all that troubles is a transient guest. 


THE PATH TO PEACE 


7i 


A pampered mind has ne’er profoundly thought, 
The soul that suffers keenly learns to think, 

And face to face with living truth is brought; 
Who quaffs woe’s cup, true wisdom’s cup may 
drink. 

Sweet peace is social with life’s virtuous pain, 
And eucharistic would communicate 
To others’ hearts the joys which calmly reign, 
And constitute its own pacific state. 

Ill 

’Tis not by propaganda that we reach 

The realm of peace. Choice peace must live to 
think 

Itself into incarnate forms, and teach 
Sweet rule. Unruly fickle forces link 
The subtle charm of strength, that’s riveted 
With steel, to chance felicities of might; 

The manacles of love alone can wed 
Fond peace to an inalienable right. 

True honor first must be in men, before 
It constitute a nation’s steadfast grace. 

Pure honor’s taught by being lived, and lore 
Of statesman, or of sage, can only trace 
What has existed in the good and great. 

Mere abstract peace is but an idle dream, 

Until an incarnation opes the gate, 

And gives reality to things that seem. 

’Tis not by deed, but by becoming, that 
We merge our willing selves into God’s peace. 
The deed is but the body will begat 

Until becoming makes earth’s craving cease, 
And striving finds quietus in the calm 
Of stable peace. Self-conscious spirit then 
Descrying superficials and bold sham, 

Discovers self, and truths of worthy ken. 


72 


QUEST AND QUERY 
IV 


The world is round where things go round, 

And the eye is round that sees it, 

And we go circling round the bound 
On a little earthly visit. 

What things have been shall be again, 

While the aeons make their circuit, 

And the mill of time turns out frail men 
Who experience gain and forfeit. 

There’s chaff and dust with the golden grain 
In the providential movement, 

And toilsome the sport to the tired brain 
In the long drawn-out amusement. 

The men who stumble over the stones 
In search of the wealth of morals, 

Can compose their scars and their broken bones 
With the grace of crowning laurels. 

The rocky realms of strenuous life 
Yield noble lives a quarry; 

When conflicts step to drum and fife, 

Best sequels seem to tarry. 

The statue stands by the drear wayside 
The sign of a lauded purpose, 

And higher ideals will always abide 
As the noble achievement’s preface. 

Though the horseman stare in a moveless ride, 

Let him face in the right direction, 

For cenotaphs where memories hide 
Inspire sublime reflection. 

And just as we estimate the past 
Do we tell our soul’s refinement, 

As varied events of differing cast 
Receive our several assignment. 


THE PATH TO PEACE 


73 


The unknown throngs that nobly fight 
Each day in sturdy action, 

And fall as stepping stones to right 
Without the world’s attraction, 

Fulfil a task of equal worth 
To constitute a nation, 

And prove to earth there is no dearth 
Of men of noble station. 

Men bloodless battles greatly fight 
To show their valuation 
Of moral force that sets aright 
Their personal equation. 

’Tis great to die in behalf of truth, 

If death be life for the nation; 

’Tis great to live in defense of truth 
Without proud acclamation. 

Our passions reek in frantic strain 
Amid surroundings gory, 

And every nerve is urged in pain 
To reach some selfish glory. 

The cultured race through mental force 
In frame become too fragile, 

Is overwhelmed in warrior course 
By blood that makes more agile. 

Then blends refined with pagan race, 
Which slowly bows to culture, 

Till ages yield to moral grace 
Which comely virtues conjure. 

The pampered nation stoops to death 
Consumed by selfish vices, 

Then Phoenix-like regains new breath 
By blood it sacrifices. 


QUEST AND QUERY 


74 

To the human mind the lengthened scheme 
Seems strangely weird and faded, 

The distant goal seems but a dream 
To the weary eye unaided. 

The glory of the setting sun 

Spreads sheen instead of shadow; 

When day is done, the day’s begun 
Across far distant meadow. 

Earth’s surface shuttles to and fro, 
Wrinkled by vale and summit, 

Poised by some principle below 
Unreached by sounding plummet. 

The aeons slowly creep around 
Approaching some faint project, 

And the human mind by shadows bound 
Would scan the secret object. 

And every time an age goes round 
Life wins a loftier station; 

For the spiral goal is always found 
In astral elevation. 

The world is round where things go round, 
And the eye seems dull that sees it, 

As we go circling round the bound 
On our little earthly visit. 

V 

One finds his repose 

In a Book that’s sublime, 

Infallible record 

For the faith of all time. 

To another soul, sober, 

Of spiritual mind, 

Comes the peace of assurance 
Of innermost kind. 


THE PATH TO PEACE 


75 


The truth that no seer 
Can so surely vouchsafe, 

Whose troubled emotions 
’Mid calamities chafe, 

Comes e’er from the Spirit 
Omnipresent and free 
To the soul that’s attuned 
To reality’s key. 

No magical teaching 
Has the soul e’er sufficed, 

That casts a reflection 

On the pure school of Christ. 

No escape from the penal 
Gives consequent peace 
To the soul that from causes 
Seeks lasting release. 

The soul that to crotchets 
Of magic is glued, 

In formulas mystic 
Finds no quietude. 

VI 

The laughing landscape, and the merry brook, 
The slender willow dipping in the breeze, 

Tell of a God not bound to mystic book, 

But with love’s measure bounded by the seas. 

The ravenous ravine that gulps with greed 
The torrent flood, and carries into dark 

Abysmal depths the frenzied foam, may lead 
Through windings swift to where the meadow¬ 
lark 

Sings on the morning air. 

Each sturdy path 

That’s nobly purposeful will lead to peace. 

The tantalizing smites of seeming wrath 
Beat into rainbow spray, then calmly cease. 


76 QUEST AND QUERY 

Uncanny rock-bound aqueducts of foam 
Lead onward to the restful casket mould 

Where glittering dust lies in the pulvered loam, 
And expert blows beat out the leaf of gold. 

The tortuous turns of harsh severity, 

However grievous be abysmal woes, 

May be but prudent love’s posterity, 

When cosmic reverie blossoms into rose. 

With pious clumsy bear-paws oft we seek 
To ravel out the so-called mystery 

Of pain, and make our fleshly fabric reek 
In mangled truths of sweet simplicity. 

With logic’s chain we would the truth embrace, 
And cozen answers from its formal wile; 

Erst sweet responses stare us face to face, 

And happy truths are kissing us the while. 

VII 

The twilight of the year is come, 

And lengthened are the hours 
We spend computing well the sum 
Of nature’s ample dowers. 

The birds are gone, but echoing still 
Their throbbing notes prolong 
Emotions pure and fine, that fill 
The heart with fruit of song. 

Dead leaves o’erdrape the tired soil, 

Gaunt trees in peace of sleep 
Oblivious rest; concluding toil 
Piles apples heap on heap. 

The copious showers swell the streams 
That run the grinding mill, 

And everywhere wide commerce teems 
To swell the banker’s till. 


THE PATH TO PEACE 


77 


While earth is mute in quiet sleep, 

And snow of fleecy down 

Blankets the ground with woolly deep, 

And gives the hill a crown, 

Man dwells in peace, enfoldedness, 

Calm central rest in God; 

Recurrent life of blessedness 
Awaits the bursting sod. 

VIII 

The giddy throng that twirls in restlessness 
Escapes ideas great. The vain caprice, 

That empty ceaseless gayeties express, 

Is alien to the paradise of peace. 

The coxcomb anxious for fraternal fame 
Natively glides into vagaries dull. 

/Esthetic souls that flutter at the name 
Of sweet superlatives, see but the hull. 

The soul, commercial, steeped in worldly gain, 
The coarse communicant with things, 

Reaps but ephemeral joys that merely feign 
To be the source whence satisfaction springs. 

The greed of surfeiting, coarse insatiety, 
Which revels in luxurious circumstance, 

The wealthy restlessness of ennui, 

At perfect peace no more than look askance. 

The carnal appetite, the giddy round 
Of garish joys which never gratify, 

All fools’ felicities, with force rebound 
To vex the soul with an embittered lie. 

Of his own goodness bashfully ashamed 
The good man grovels in timidity, 

By smothered manliness his grace is maimed, 
As virtues pale to insipidity. 


78 QUEST AND QUERY 

Man’s altruistic worth is made or marred 
By zeal or cowardice of latent deed; 

Goodness inert, by indecision barred, 

Is mere benevolence of idle creed. 

Man’s indolence of will, mere fitful dream, 
Subconscious, loiters at achievement’s door; 

Or left to drift in slumber’s listless stream, 
Unlearns the stroke of time’s directing oar. 

IX 

Peace on earth, good will to men, 

Sure to come; 

Are we living to this end, 

Breathing spirit into lives 
Now so numb 

To the sense hale peace revives, 

Sense that cannot rudely blend 
With martial drum, 

Knell that tolls a rude amen. 

Arts of happy peace and pleasure, 

Sure to come; 

Are we merging our full measure 
Into greatness to impart 
Just a crumb? 

Stepping stones to God’s great heart, 

Sprightly stairs through heaven’s azure, 

We become 

Men’s uplift to moral treasure. 

X 

The sneaking soul that takes delight so keen 
And constant in unwholesome intimate 
Familiarity with what is mean, 

Shall truckling reach the goal that lies innate. 


THE PATH TO PEACE 


79 


The restlessness of envy in its cloak 
Of avarice, the rancor of the heart 

That’s blighted by defeat its crimes invoke, 
Lone ostracism’s ache, the social smart, 

Make pitfalls deep along the cautious path 
That leads to peacefulness. No ribald laugh 

Can obviate the clarion tone of wrath 
That graves its sentence in bold epitaph. 

The heavy lengthened days of weary toil 
In sad pursuit of values weighed in pencd, 

Chicaneries of politics, recoil 

On grovelling lives that revel in pretense. 

The noble sense of equity is stilled 

Where passions plunge into commercial feud 

In violent attempts man’s rights to build 
On principles with blatant wrong imbued. 

Pursuits that basely agitate the soul 
Destroy the dignity of tranquilness; 

Only to live for one’s own toil as goal 
Is weary treadmill-life that’s Sabbathless. 

Base avarice defeats the nobler aim 

Of life. Augmentors of mere circumstance, 

Of empires’ realm, who play the martial game 
Of bloody war, invite a sad mischance. 

A nation’s lasting peace is ne’er conserved 
By concrete fort, or iron armament; 

Vizor, and greave, and coat steel-ribbon nerved, 
Compound a cage for quarrelsome malcontent. 

A busy populace engaged in arts 

Of semi-peace, engrossed in sordid gain, 

Creates commercial strength, and with it, darts 
Of envy, and fierce competition’s strain. 


8o 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Impassive to life’s moral gain, the throng 
Identifies itself with government 
Which cleverly ignores commercial wrong; 

In lust for swift-won benefit, gives vent 
In pagan lands to black atrocities 

To filch foul gains from helpless denizens 
Of fertile forest wilds. 


Sad paucities 

Of honor sink men’s castles into dens 
Where human beasts may paw their bloody gain, 
Which stirs the appetite of kindred hordes 
Who scent the boon, and venge the savage slain 
By crush of iron heel, and blood of swords. 


Ambitious war lords with besieging guns, 

With self-tuned cry, “To be, or not to be,” 
Most prodigal with blood of valiant sons, 
Delight to set the martial spirit free. 


A fervent iron industry subsumes 

The nation’s will. The execrable task 
Enslaves, makes warriors of brave sons, and dooms 
To use of martial products which unmask 
Their hideous mien. 


Subversive of the gain 
Of toil, the instruments of war become 
The weighted millstone with its choking chain, 
That drags to drowning depths neath ocean’s 
scum. 


The victor and the vanquished both go down 
Before the chastisement of God, whose mete 
Of equity of matchless sole renown, 

Whose ripe unfailing justice, none can cheat. 


THE PATH TO PEACE 


81 


XI 

Deep silence broods o’er all profound, 
And Syrian stars look down 
On rocky tomb wherein lies bound 
The wealth of earth’s renown. 

The stone that may not turn to bread 
May yet a pillow be, 

The Lord of Peace there rests His head, 
While rocks wake quiveringly. 

The moon bows low to kiss the tomb, 
Crisp air distils the dew, 

The mist-bathed moss in nestling gloom 
Reflects a rainbow hue. 

The man of sorrows now may sleep, 

The crucial pain is o’er, 

Gnarled olive trees their watch will keep 
While nods the sentinel corps. 

The quickening God walks gardens choice 
In the cool of evening air, 

Receding echoes of His voice 
Predict the morrow fair. 

XII 

The spirit of sadness 
Has primeval rule 
In the juvenile pupil 
Who goes plodding to school. 

The roadway is dusty, 

The distance is long, 

The school master cruel 
When order goes wrong. 


82 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The plodder with envy 
Would ride in a coach, 

All things are made dreary 
By the mood of approach. 

The boy’s lot is slavish, 

For he lives under rule, 

And there’s nothing more servile 
Than going to school. 

Nor pleasing the labor 
To care for the flock, 

The harvest to garner, 

To provide for the stock. 

And the girl is taught weaving, 
Must card and make yarn, 

And ceaseless the sweeping, 

And the stockings to darn. 

The youth is apprentice 
To the business of life, 

And the attitude taken, 

The distemper of strife. 

Where then is the province, 

The palace of peace, 

In a world of distemper 
Where complaints never cease 

How blest the provider 

Who can both toil and spin, 
And dance to the music 
Of the taut violin! 

’Tis an art to be happy 
With a will that is free, 

Of the pleasures of being 
A prudent trustee. 


THE PATH TO PEACE 


83 


The life that is wretched 
From lack of mere things, 

Has won the condition 
Which idleness brings. 

And the gloom that is mental 
Is a posture of mind 
That worships the dismal 
In an attitude blind. 

The Lord of creation 
Made everything good 
From the pleasure of freedom 
To the scrupulous should. 

And the life that is moral 
In likeness to God, 

With intelligent spirit 
Illumines the clod. 

Just a word, not a sentence, 

Can the sprightly bird plot, 

Nor think about thinking, 

Nor ponder the ought. 

The spirit of gladness 
Has primeval rule 
In the souls of God’s children 
Who go singing to school. 

XIII 

Our God is love, and to become beloved, 

Appeared on earth as man. In peasant life 
He spent His youthful growing years, was shoved 
About by hatred, hustled into strife 

By clamorous men who claimed to honor God. 

The night winds were the whisper of His prayer 
That followed on the taunt, and scourging rod, 
Yet every morning found Him free from care. 


84 QUEST AND QUERY 

He ever found His serving toilsome life, 
Misapprehended by the hungry throng, 

More misconceived by theologic strife, 

An endless daily round of happy song. 

Anointed with the oil of gladness far 

Above His fellowmen, He won such wealth 
The world can never give, nor ever mar, 

And left to us His peace, His moral health. 

XIV 

We greatly love pure gentleness, 

The kind forgiving heart, 

With estimate so fathomless, 

Beyond expression’s art. 

To give a gift of kindliness, 

With motive from above, 

To show the heart’s own graciousness, 

Is next to giving love. 

The soul, wronged by ignobleness, 

By unchivalric deed, 

The deed of thoughtless sordidness 
In churlish lack of heed, 

That kindly turns in brotherhood, 

Nor intimates the rod, 

Reveals itself in saviourhood, 

And is likest unto God. 

The life of loving kindnesses 
Knows best how to forgive, 

And shows by tender largesses 
A trust not tentative, 

But lasting in its confidence, 

A soul expanding trust, 

That wooes and wins the eminence 
That lifts men from the dust. 


THE PATH TO PEACE 


85 


For not a soul surrenders well 
Its just and rightful claim, 

And tenders blessings parallel 
To curses that defame, 

But wins a wealth munificent, 

High values of the soul, 

And owns the self of rich extent 
In fullest self-control. 

The one we hate controls us ill, 

Forgiven friends we own; 

The grudge we hold enslaves our will 
Until we’re servile grown. 

XV 

Our enemies are not the foes that kill 
The body, and with baffled will retreat; 

The force which moves but earthy forms is nil 
To face the inborn Christ who flings defeat. 

Thou, God, art more than with us, art within, 

A grace, a gift, the world can never give, 

That kills the shame, the fear, the guilt of sin, 

And makes the emancipated spirit live. 

In pleasantness ambrosial air we breathe, 

While peacefully like Abraham we rove, 

And tent in sweet tranquillity beneath 

The terebinths of Mamre’s scattered grove. 

Nor time, nor place, exclusive is of Thee; 

Nor dungeon’s door, nor paradise of art, 

Unyielding is to peace’s magic key, 

Which ushers in tranquillity of heart. 

When least expected Thou art timely there, 
Where hopes are crushed, and hearts are mute 
with grief; 

Sweet peace Thou breathest soft as heavenly air, 
Thy presence gives ineffable relief. 


86 


QUEST AND QUERY 


We’ve walked and talked with Thee, both Lord 
and Friend, 

Our hearts are burning yet with quickened zeal; 
We would Thy sacred footsteps still attend, 

When weary, suppliant at Thy footstool kneel. 

Abide with us, far spent is now the day, 

Come in and sup with us; pray, heed our call. 

Be Thou our guest; O do not say us nay! 

For soon, so soon, on us the night will fall. 

The door is shut, and Peace, great Peace, within; 
He, blessing bread, then breaks; one gleam of 
light, 

And He is gone; but Peace has found its inn; 

The clay of Peace has vanished from our sight. 


CANTO V 


THE PATH TO POWER 

I 

The joy of self-extension thrills the heart, 

And quickens the maneuvers of the mind. 

The sturdy boy delights to wing the dart, 

To hurl the discus, or the ball, to find 

Its goal, the measure of the self spread out 
To ends of victory. 

To be esteemed 

Of worth in virile strength of fistic bout, 

Or in the moral realm where thought has 
gleamed, 

Or action elevated life, gives wing 

To plodding souls, gives angel-form to man, 

And Hermes swiftness to the youthful fling 
Of hale ambitious sway. 

Thus life began 

In hunger to become as gods, to be 
And do in terms profound and infinite. 

The siren song of strength sounds o’er the sea 
And lures to deeds both small and great, that fit 

Both kingly scope, and tyrant clutch for power. 
’Tis not of strength to be with pleasure 
crammed, 

Nor yet of dignity the ecstasies, that lower, 

Of angels looking down upon the damned. 

Not he is great, nor his the power, who coarse 
And brutal, drives his victories by push; 

87 


88 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Nor greater he, with shouting voice and hoarse, 
Who dashes by and sees no burning bush. 

Nor push, nor goaded pull of burdened beast, 

The sweated agony of goals achieved, 

Spells admirable power. No shriving priest 
Mere might impenitent has e’er reprieved. 

The beautiful is never violent; 

Nor fair, wild fury mirrored in a glass. 

Refinement sways, with social kindness blent, 

Like glinting sunlight smiling on the grass. 

The giant force to crush by violence 
Of monetary strategy, by beck 

Of diabolic avarice to fence 
The world into a private plot, and fleck 

Earth’s beauty with the blood of virile men, 

Is petty in the provenance of God, 

And monstrous as the lion in his den, 

Ferocious, craunching bones, and drunk with 
blood. 

To be is something paramount; to hold, 

Mere vigilance of might ephemeral. 

The rule of ruthless might is quickly told, 
Inherent ruin its reciprocal. 

To wield externals by a potent force 
That makes for good, implies magnificence 

Of soul. Defective is the deed, whose source 
Is selfish cruel might’s incontinence. 

The thirst to be as gods promptly arose 
In man. His deity he framed as El 

Shaddai, the Battle God of Might, and chose 
A king whose sceptre is an asphodel. 

The nautilus removed from distant shore 

Still dreams the echoes of the moaning winds, 

Repeats the tremulous yearning strains of yore, 

Its lingering ocean memory ne’er rescinds. 


THE PATH TO POWER 


89 


The swish and swirl of unleashed lapping waves 
Which echo in the shell, the moaning sea, 

Is but infinitude in man, which laves 
In whispered call to set ambition free. 

The prudent man takes with discerning art 
The whispering shell from decorative shelf 
And hears diastoles of his beating heart, 

The luring echoes of the longing self. 

No sense of values other than of power 
To satisfy some selfish common need 
Impelled primeval man. No moral dower 
Gave yet complete direction to his deed. 

His power was might, the victory of force, 

While sense of right yet slumbered in his brain, 
To wake in time and run its steady course 
Till righteousness is deemed the greatest gain. 

The fear of some unseen malignant god, 

Or man’s revenge, restrains presumptuous deeds, 
Until relieved of superstition’s rod 
Invisibly an inner spirit leads. 

The thirst for power over things defames 
The values of the moral realm. A blot 
On worth is cast, when greed appends to names 
Of things divine coarse values which are bought 

With meretricious coins, which ne’er impound 
The golden wealth of which our longings dream. 
Both thought and thing shall perish, which are 
bound 

To base metallic forms that only seem. 

Man may not deftly play sleek providence 
In the lives of fellow men. Another law 
Prevails which man may thwart at great expense, 
Entailing things entwined he ne’er foresaw. 


90 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Life has dimensions wide, and one must more 
Than forward look, must upward look to thrive, 
Must have a vision vast, through open door 
That swings to skies, which soaring dreams may 
rive. 

Supine upon the clay his form may lie, 

To upward face a galaxy’s concave 
Confronts the view, whose stars exploring spy 
Into the thoughts that frame heaven’s architrave. 

II 

I cannot rise to let thee in, 

My most familiar friend, 

Unless thy claims to mine akin 
Excite the upward trend. 

There’s something in that heart of thine 
Coercing force within 
To stir the secret spring of mine, 

And make the door swing in. 

There’s nothing of itself can rise 
To meet the higher soul, 

Some power descending from the skies 
Must lift it to its goal. 

Our common passions downward trend, 
Debased by sordid life, 

And faulty forces meanly lend 
To revel in the strife. 

’Tis only that which dwells above 
May stoop to elevate 
By lift of kind encircling love 
Weak things of low estate. 

Not only are there upward calls 
To things nobly supreme, 

But somewhere dwells ’twixt ether walls 
A power that stirs the dream, 


THE PATH TO POWER 


9i 


And wakes to earnest life the heart 
That longs for greater things, 

Lifts up the soul to do its part 
On strong ascending wings. 

Springs not of self the lifeless soil 
Into the living germ 
Of vegetable cell or foil, 

Born of some vital sperm. 

But tiny rootlet jutting down 
Lifts up the common sod, 

Ornates dead earth with living crown 
Of vital seedling pod. 

No growing grass aspires to leap 
Into the oxen’s mouth, 

Diviner destiny to reap 

Than fatal summer’s drouth. 

But bovine strength lifts up the cell, 
And tissue of the brain 
Grows out of grasses in the dell 
Oft bathed in summer rain. 

No bovine thoughts that ever dream 
Rise higher than their kind, 

And cattle fancies, though they teem, 
Are moral color blind. 

But fleshly tissue of an ox 
Ascends to thought in man, 

And, Ecce Homo! from the rocks, 
Whence sentient life began. 

Each higher life stoops down to lift 
The lower to its height, 

Ascendant life is e’er a gift 
Bestowed by super-might. 


92 


QUEST AND QUERY 


To angel life there is no drift, 

No rise by native strength, 

But in the clouds love makes a rift, 

Whence comes man’s help at length. 

For God stoops down incarnate, kind, 
Indwells the angel-man, 

Uplifts the life in heart and mind, 

And forms a living span, 

A scaling stairway to the skies, 

And leads us by the hand 
To aeries where no eagle flies 
In scorn of scorching sand. 

Ill 

Proud is the world whose stirring scenes we see, 
Whose force we seek to compass and to use; 

We think herein dwells true reality 

To grasp the goods from which our gain ensues. 

In terms of earthly gain and common weal 
We weigh men’s character and circumstance, 

And to material forces make appeal 
To deepen life, and happiness enhance. 

But when our life all worsted and undone 
In surfeit of success, or crushed by woe, 

Exhausted falls before the race is run, 

We apprehend there is a moral foe, 

Who sows his tares among the precious wheat, 

And makes a joyous circumstance his throne 

Whence he dispenses charms with ills replete, 

For bread and fish gives serpent and a stone. 

The soul forsaken of its wealth of love, 

Of friends and goods that once graced happy 
days, 

Turns in despair from helpless earth, above, 

To realms where gracious succor ne’er decays. 


THE PATH TO POWER 


93 


What man in human weakness cannot do, 

He asks his God in deference to perform, 

And makes his God his servant to renew 

The gifts of love, and rescue from all harm. 

And God is God because He can and will 
Perform the mighty menials of our need; 

Almighty He, who serves and can fulfil 
In least detail by His majestic deed. 

Among thy friends wouldst thou be reckoned great ? 
Then be thou servant of earth’s humblest all; 

For he can best attain exalted state 
Who nobly serves in things both great and small. 

Among the world’s renowned and liberal deeds 
How meagre is the power I can wield; 

Would I might find the level road that leads 
To noble fame, and joys which fame can yield! 

But paths to greatness are no level way 
Of unobstructed pleasureful pursuit; 

There’s storm and frost and dark inclement day 
Between the fragrant blossom and the fruit. 

IV 

Neath springtime sun’s sweet kissing ray 
The snow so fugitive, 

In fear so sensitive 
Of e’en the purest gaze, 

In shy seclusion slips away 
As hide-and-seek in children’s play, 

And never lisps a phrase 
To hint its noiseless traceless way. 

To silence ’tis a willing prey 
To dwell in cloud and clay, 

In earth and air to live, 

Its vapor mist to give, 

And wield a world-wide secret sway. 


94 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The crocus first leaps from repose 
And slyly looks around, 

But never hears the sound 
Of voice that wakes from doze, 
Light’s vocal rays that nimbly leap 
From lofty sun, then gently creep 
Where snow-life hid and froze. 
Forth from the chill that shadows keep, 
From bulbous home where petals sleep, 
The flower leaps tip-toes, 

From out the icy ground 
Where swelling bud is bound, 

The smiling crocus sprightly grows. 


In jonquil and in daffodil, 

In beachwood and the birch, 

Whose wind-tossed branches lurch, 
Where robin builds its nest, 

Life flows; in clouds whose mists distil, 
Life leaps along in rushing rill, 

With fluent might abreast; 

In robin’s trill, in grinding mill, 

In saber skill, and eagle’s quill, 

With noblest power possessed; 

In honey bee aperch 
Intent on rich research, 

In blooms which fragrant sweets distil. 


Seek not the living ’mong the dead; 
The risen life is found 
In every soul’s rebound 
From sateless earthly quest. 

In every heartway that we tread 
We find some graces holy wed. 

Christ stands a knocking guest 
At every heart whence good has fled, 


THE PATH TO POWER 


95 


V 


Fore every conscience sick with dread, 
With bread and chalice blest. 
The excellence profound, 

The highest good is bound 
Intact to God by scarlet thread. 

V 

There are spirits too gentle 
In this vehement world 
To cope with life’s rudeness 
In the arena hurled, 

Too frail to encounter 
Inimical foes 

With bloodthirsty weapons 
In gladiatorial pose. 

There’s a genial service 
For genial souls, 

Who mildly encompass 
Invisible goals, 

Who attend as escort 
The incomparable force 
That irresistibly journeys 
From an invisible source. 

The soul that is prayerful 
And knocks at the door 
Of the opulent palace 

Of heaven’s treasure store, 

With faith that’s capacious, 

May carry away 
A plenteous treasure, 

Which angels purvey. 

The soul that petitions 
The omnipotent throne 
With spacious knapsack 
For munificent loan, 


96 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Has richer access 
To invisible dower, 

Than is ever entrusted 
To physical power. 

Advantageous the voyage 
By ethereal dome, 

For the road that is farthest 
Is the nearest way home. 

The boisterous shouting 
Of selfish desire 
Inestimable presents 
Will never acquire. 

Man’s craving that’s selfish 
Its shallowness shows, 

Kind favors conflicting 
God never bestows, 

For the self that’s intrinsic 
Is true answer to prayer, 
Of the Father judicious 
Is the wise son an heir. 

Life’s absolute potence, 

The universe-soul, 

Is the will of the Spirit 
On ceaseless patrol. 

To journey far Godward 
Is never to roam, 

For the farthest way round 
Is the nearest way home. 

VI 

Into the liquid depth of eyes 
I looked with ardent gaze, 

And saw the sweetest virtues rise, 
That haunted all my days. 


THE PATH TO POWER 


97 


To that fair life I had no right, 

No claim to call mine own, 

Except to walk by its bright light 
Across my pathway thrown. 

I took the graces of that life, 

Firm pressed them to my soul, 

And in the world’s contending strife 
I gave them full control. 

And when my life was fully shown, 

Its blooms fulfilled in fruit, 

Immortal attributes had grown 
From that sweet fertile root. 

Changed to the grace in which she shone, 
Cleansed from all earthly pelf, 

She’ll know me at the heavenly throne, 
Because she’ll know herself. 

I wonder where the virtue lies, 

The resurrecting power, 

That saves the quickened soul that cries 
In its decisive hour! 

A story goes wide to and fro, 

That Jesus died to save; 

But then, it seems so long ago 
He rose from dismal grave. 

I know just such sepulchral place, 

A grave where Jesus lay, 

Forgotten in His saving grace; 

He rose but yesterday. 

For Christ is bound in rigid heart, 

And there lies restive till 
Our gracious God bursts bars apart 
And frees man’s fettered will. 


QUEST AND QUERY 


’Twas God I saw in starlit eyes 
Incarnate in her soul, 

The Christ, whose virtue deifies 
The life that seeks His goal. 

The angel-glance which haunts my mind, 

The grace that I admire, 

Spring from God’s oriflamme, I find, 

Which sets my soul on fire. 

’Twas Jesus in her life that shone, 

Cleansed from gross earthy pelf; 

He’ll own us on His ruling throne, 

Because He’ll own Himself. 

VII 

There is a tender touch reciprocal, 

That binds our loving God who greatly gives, 

And the receptive soul, that mutual 
In benefits the blessing takes, and lives. 

For God is pleased His life to multiply 
In spirit-sons, incarnate in whose soul 

Are moral traits that bloom and never die, 

And ever growing, grace deistic goal. 

If ye abide in me, we hear God say, 

In purpose true our lives shall be as one; 

And if my Word abide in you each day, 

We’re nearer grown, for Logos is my Son. 

Then ask ye what ye will, it shall be done, 
Wherein ye cannot ask a foolish thing, 

For in this mutual sphere all truth is won, 

True prayer can naught but unmixed blessings 
bring. 

Prayer is communion with the Beautiful, 

The soul absorbent of the Great and Good, 

In spheres where love and reason have control, 
Where values rare are seized and understood. 


THE PATH TO POWER 


99 


The energy that moves the universe 
Secretive underlies material things; 

Electrons of the spirit-life coerce 

Celestial worth which comes on angel-wings. 

The latent powers that nerve the artizan 
In tasks creative of superlatives, 

The virile values of the superman, 

The liberal soul, the valor that forgives, 

All saintly virtues that give just redress 
To such as pass beneath the chastening rod, 

On suffering souls indemnities impress, 

Full radiant are of fellowship with God. 

Graces adorable of excellence 

Escort the soul that companies with God, 

No moral eminence is too immense 

For prayerful feet with heavenly sandals shod. 

Of all chivalric deeds my soul can do 
In sweet espousal to a sacred cause, 

Is this, to plead with God and saintly woo 
For those I love a gift above applause. 

Beyond acute imagination’s flight, 

Or fond impassioned poet’s sacred store, 
Excelling all this world’s bold gallant might 
Described in strains of choice chivalric lore, 

Are searchings in sweet silence of the hearts 
Of those we love, in close pursuit to find 
The sacred need near where the tear-drop starts, 
When life is probed by searchings sweet and kind. 

In prayer we walk in secret paths divine, 

And journey with our all-pervasive God 
Into the silent soul’s most sacred shrine, 

Where feet of curious men have never trod. 


IOO 


QUEST AND QUERY 


And chiming in our soul’s sweet consonance 
We mingle lives in everlasting song; 

Our prayer-sent boons the worth of life enhance, 
Bestowed by God, to whom great boons belong. 

Then raise your hearts throughout travailing hour, 
And exercise the grace excelling rare; 

For great is he who wields the secret power, 
Invoking this chivalric grace of prayer. 

Our God is not a man that He should err 
In what He does by His artistic hands, 

Though finished forms He may for long defer, 

At length appears the beauty of His plans. 

The current life of God in all things flows, 

His Spirit energizes perfect power, 

The prudent prayerful mind perceptive grows 
Of values constituting richest dower. 

To share immortal attributes divine, 

To live the values resident in God, 

Makes human souls strength’s own resistless shrine, 
To which obedience journeys from abroad. 

VIII 

With inquisitive longing 
We would spy in the deeps, 

Where unmeasured silence 
Tenaciously keeps 

A story so secret, 

A timorous tale, 

Of nebulous aeons 
So faint in their trail. 

Is there not some accomplice, 

Some accessory fair, 

That will venture disclosure 
And make us aware 


THE PATH TO POWER 


IOI 


Of the primeval pathway 

That leads through the night 
To the glorious dawning 
That glides into light? 

The unfingered plectrum 
Of the unstrung lyre 
Awaits inspiration 

That comes from the fire 

Of the soul-leaping prophet, 
Inbreathed by his God, 

Who trails all the journey 
The aeons have trod. 

The mind of the mortal 
Is a flickering spark 
Of the Spirit eternal 
That shines in the dark. 

There is rapturous music 
In hymning the skies 
Where golden auroras 
Are songs in disguise, 

Whose values are pensive 
In the symphonious soul, 
Which reads life’s notation 
From legible scroll. 

The delicate treading 
Of time’s fairy feet 
Has left its impression 
On life’s dainty sheet, 

Where dim hieroglyphics 
Of life’s growing grace 
Print tracks from amoeba 
To the babe’s cherub face. 


102 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The babe in its progress 
Of weird vitalism 
Takes on the complexion 
Of life’s cosmic prism. 

And along the strange pathway 
The vital germs stroll 
A complement’s added, 

A shrewd thinking soul. 

We interpret the ceaseless 
And circular flow 
Of cause and its sequence 
As worlds come and go, 

In terms of contrivance, 

Of intelligent will, 

Whose obvious precepts 
Wild forces fulfil. 

We pause at the rigors 
Of an unswerving sphere, 
Necessity’s sternness 
Of existence as drear 

As a clam that is brainless, 
Without moral pearl, 

Or delirious atom 
In wild cycle-whirl. 

’Tis a dull explanation 
To interpret earth’s laws 
As determinant forces 
Without moral cause. 

’Tis the mind of observer 
That denominates laws, 

For to man it is native 
To introduce a because. 


THE PATH TO POWER 


103 


There is immanent spirit 
In the whole wide world, 

And meshes of meaning 

Round the universe twirled, 

For life is not cradled 
In wild darkness deep, 

Where mind’s non-existent, 

And the will is asleep, 

But conforms in its meaning 
To divine cognizance, 

Which shapes its conclusions 
In sweet consonance. 

In light that’s effulgent 
God’s path we may trace, 

If we look for the tokens 
Of His immanent grace. 

In life, then, we posit 
Intelligent will, 

Whose obvious mandates 
All forces fulfil. 

IX 

Three cardinal virtues 

Of marvellous might ; 

Have laid a foundation 

For the strength of the knight: 

The Faith of the faithful 
That sees in advance, 

And pierces the future 
With discriminate glance; 

The Hope of the hopeful, 

The brisk residue 
Of the wrecks of endeavor 
That impatient paths strew; 


104 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The Love of the lovely, 

The. magnetic ore, 
Attractive of vigor 
That lies at the core 

Of all valid greatness 
That constitutes worth, 

Of all priceless virtues 

To which value gives birth. 

None other foundation 
Has ever been laid, 

That fortifies valor 
With virtues so staid, 

As rest as a basis 
Of principled power, 
Enriching the structure 
With invaluable dower. 

The graces subjective 
That work from within, 
Construct a wide fabric 
Which social threads spin; 

For the resident forces 
Of virtues innate 
Are ever expansive 
To wider estate. 

Life’s building material, 

The good and the true, 

Are vested in beauty, 

Their rich revenue. 

Such breadth of dominion, 
Such substance of might, 
Endow the escutcheon 

Of the conquering knight, 



THE PATH TO POWER 


105 


Who goes to the tourney 
At importunate hour 
Imbued with the Spirit 
Of invincible power. 


CANTO VI 


THE WAY TO HAPPINESS 

I 

Among choice spirits robed in praise, 
Their joyous lives adorning, 

Who well commute in winsome ways 
The oil of joy for mourning, 

Sometimes a saddened face I see 
Depressed by care and sorrow, 

And eyes that speak appealingly 
About a gloomy morrow. 

Is mine the blame for secret tears 
That make some eyes so dreamy? 

Have I intensified the fears 
That make the future gloomy? 

If grief I’ve caused instead of joy, 
Witness my heart relenting, 

Most gladsome cheer without alloy 
My spirit brings repenting. 

II 

Upon the swift machinery of life 

There sit two sprites, that keenly scrutinize 

Men’s actions in this world of sturdy strife: 
Their names are Rust and Friction; and each 
tries 

To steal the nectar from life’s pleasure cup. 

One seeks the ruin of refreshful rest: 

106 


THE WAY TO HAPPINESS 107 

Says Rust, “Now, if you stop, I’ll eat you up.” 

Says Friction, harshly with fatiguing zest, 

“If you keep going on, I’ll wear you out.” 

And menaced thus by these two cruel sprites, 
Intimidating by their boastings stout, 

How shall we act to gain our common rights! 

Ill 

Oh, who would an editor be! 

Mendacious me, 

To figure as we, and never be I, 

A negative soul with a duplicate life, 

To bow to the populace, to cringe, and to sigh, 
And be in contention rife. 

Ah me! Ah me! 

Oh give me rather the three-legged stool 
Of the counting house clerk, or the carpenter’s rule, 
My humble life to measure; 

Or the gardener’s plot, the furrowing plow, 

The gifts of the glebe, the fruits of the bough, 

The aroma of sylvan pleasure. 

Oh, who would a soldier be! 

Ah wretched me, 

To fire a gun, a sword to wield, 

To fill in the ranks a two-foot niche, 

To take away life, or be lost on the field, 

And be shoveled in a ditch! 

Ah me! Ah me! 

Oh give me rather the stately pen, 

That heals the difference of haughty men 
By beauteous arbitration; 

That engraves the thought of every age, 

Deepened by wisdom of saint and sage, 

The glory of every nation. 

Oh, who would a professor be! 

Ah vexed me, 

To hunt for a spot to deposit a thought, 


QUEST AND QUERY 


108 

To chisel the gnarls of an angular life, 

To be scarred by the chips, and to find my sad lot 
To be cast in rugged strife! 

Ah me! Ah me! 

Oh give me rather pure alchemy’s draught, 

That scatters our ills by a quick-healing waft 
Of medicative potation; 

Or the robe, or the cowl of a pure sainted soul, 
And the pastoral staff that conducts to the goal 
Of spiritual purification. 

IV 

There’s so much of sweet contentment 
In the frame my soul may be, 

Happy state free from resentment 
For my soul, if it can see. 

And so much of expectation 
Of rewards for things I make 
All depends for realization 
On the attitude I take. 

Earthly things themselves are empty 
Of true satisfaction’s thrill, 

For it is the soul that’s sprightly 
That relieves the grind and grill. 

Yet how oft I look for pleasure 
To fair places and to things, 

But to find my daily measure 
In the tasks that duty brings. 

Oft I long for social friendship, 

And the sweet society 
Of the souls I almost worship 
In their friendly rarity; 

But to find right in the circle 
Of close kinship in the home 
A meek ministry so fertile, 

E’er forbidding me to roam 


THE WAY TO HAPPINESS 


109 


In bold search of compensation 
For the longings of my heart 
In its thirst for salutation 

From dear friends who dwell apart. 

Then delightful gladsome greeting 
From true friends who apprehend 
Well effects a soul’s true meeting 
With a soul that will attend 

To its ministries so faithful 
In a spirit true and brave, 

In an attitude so graceful 
To the tasks that duty gave. 

And thus stronger ties are knotted, 
And far sweeter graces thought, 
Than can ever be allotted 

To the souls with pleasure bought. 

So I would not breathe a murmur 
Of complaint against the way 
My kind Father takes to further 
All the joys that fill my day. 

Never do I act so bravely 

As when He full-shapes the plan, 
And imparts me strength most suavely 
To fulfil what He began. 

And my social thirst and hunger, 
And the things for which I cry, 
Now distress my soul no longer 
Since my solace is so nigh. 

For so much of expectation 
Of the joy in things I do 
All depends for compensation 
On the point I take the view. 


no QUEST AND QUERY 

V 

To live in dread of hope’s paralysis 
Is swiftly to augment the jeopardy, 

The font of present joy we blindly miss 
In view of morrow, or of yesterday. 

There is a life of sweet serenity 
Self-lubricating in its busy deed, 

In which springs up into eternity 

A well that satisfies each panting need. 

A harassed soul may have its happiness 
Serenely nestling in a crypt secrete; 

May reach the higher state of blessedness 

Where things that hap can ne’er true bliss unseat. 

This sphere is not amusement’s cycle-whirl, 

A giddy round of vague bewilderment; 

Nor yet the scene where gladiators hurl 
The darts of death for human merriment. 

Olympiads may chronicle the years, 

And reckon earth’s events in terms of sport; 

Nor sages wise, nor poets, are the peers 
Of demigods in their athletic court. 

Material achievements mark the course 
Of Roman arms, and organizing law; 

The founding of a city dates the force 

From which the deeds of men their value draw. 

But life subsumes profound reality 

In Christian state, as cycling years roll by, 

In terms of highest personality 

Man dates his years by Anno Domini. 

Man’s happiness is not in mere event, 

Whose vagrant notes destroy pure melody, 

Nor circumstance full-brimming with content 
In which oft lurks a moral malady. 


THE WAY TO HAPPINESS 


hi 


The finest attributes of heart and mind 
Allied to truth with firm tenacity, 

Must constitute the state refined 

Which gives to bliss a rich capacity. 

VI 

The attitude that friends sustain 

Of warmth, from noble feeling grown, 
Boasts not in clamorous refrain, 

But speaks a language all its own. 

By language inexpressible 

The trustful heart the truth perceives, 

For like to like is impressible, 

And reads the tenderest mysteries. 

The thoughts we read in joy or fear 
Spring not alone from lettered form, 

But from our soul’s own atmosphere 
Of expected good, or guilt’s alarm. 

The temple of the mind contains, 

Its cosey nook of secret store, 

Where confidence with friendship reigns, 

And trust alone undoes the door. 

And so between the lettered lines, 

From extraneous formal words apart, 

The confidential friendship finds 
The cosey corner of the heart. 

VII 

Beguiled by cunning siren’s artful call, 

Which lures an alway future joy to seek, 

The wooer close pursues, through gilded hall, 
Through busy mart, o’er field and mountain peak, 
His fleeing goal in weariness untold, 

Expecting on the morrow, or next week, 

His prosecuted rapture to enfold; 

And just as he would kiss its tempting cheek, 


112 QUEST AND QUERY 

Elusive glides the pleasure from his hold. 

The poet pens his songs with love aflame, 

The sculptor forms his statue fair and bold, 

With fondest hopes of wide immortal fame. 

The magnate scatters philanthropic wealth 
Attached to which is some upbraiding blame, 

Through sacrifice of noble moral health 
To gain applause, and win a royal name. 

The artist imitates the lovely dell, 

And lonely waits for academic praise. 

The author sits ’mid squalor in his cell 

With burning brain, and plot in tangled maze, 

Transposing his sad state of wretchedness 
Into the tortuous scheme of toilsome page, 

And calls it realism’s normal dress, 

Creation which abides no future age. 

The bliss is thought to come when fame is grown, 
Or compensation’s gold brings final joy; 

True happiness ere now has quickly flown, 

For real bliss the gold is but alloy. 

The work that’s done with happiness deferred 
Receives the impress of imperfect deed, 

The soul by noble ethic sight unspurred 

Transmits to men but transient fading weed. 

Man’s lasting work bears trademark of pure soul; 
Ideal form, the beautiful alone, 

Immortal lives, and gains abiding goal; 

The garnered sheaf is from the good wheat sown. 

The classic statue of excelling form, 

Sweet Mater Dolorosa’s sacred face, 

Possess as subtle superhuman norm 
The placid greatness of the artist’s grace. 


THE WAY TO HAPPINESS 


113 


The joy is in the doing fast enclosed, 

Else product ne’er would last the fleeting years; 
The beauty of the artist’s soul transposed 
Within his peerless product e’er appears. 

VIII 

The whir of wheels 
So trembling steals 
Throughout my aching nerves; 

The smoky air 
Excludes the fair 
Sweet gladsome light that serves 
To cheer my life 
Amid its strife. 

Yet o’er it all, 

This saddening pall, 

The chiming bells peal out, 

While memory brings 
On angel-wings 
Pale forms that move about, 

And gently find 
My wandering mind. 

My bosom swells 
While memory tells 
The story of the past. 

I love the halls 
Where my footfalls 
In youth fell soft and fast; 

Where memories greet. 

And loved ones meet. 

I love the room 
E’en in its gloom 
Where busy life holds sway; 

The desk, the chair, 

The office bare, 


QUEST AND QUERY 


114 


Where father spent his day; 

And over all 
Sweet bell tones fall. 

Yet in a dream 
There comes a gleam 
Of life in higher air, 

Above the bells 
Whose sweet note tells 
Of life that’s pure and fair 
Beneath the bowers 
Of shading flowers; 

Above the smoke 
And hurried folk, 

Above the chiming bells, 

A home of love 
This din above 
Of which my longing tells. 

O, shall I see! 

O, shall it be! 

My faint heart throbs 
While routine robs 
The fragrance of the dells. 
Mine is a home 
Where longings roam 
Above the evening bells, 

Where I may rest 
From painful quest. 

Among the hills 
And purling rills 
I still shall hear the bells; 

And friends shall climb 
The steeps that rhyme 
With blooms and grassy swells 
To bowers above, 

My home of love. 


THE WAY TO HAPPINESS 


ii 5 


The busy tide 
May still abide, 

And throng the dusty street; 

Like bird on high, 

Or butterfly, 

I’ll rest in air so sweet 
Above the bells, 

Where sweetness dwells. 

’Tis more than dream, 

Or things that seem, 

This garden home of mine; 

This home of love 
The bells above, 

My longing hopes enshrine. 

Yes, it shall be; 

Yes, I shall see. 

IX 

How sweet were apple blossoms all the year 
Exhaling fragrance through the toilsome days, 

But soon the dainty petals dead and sere 

Drop off, such beauteous charm so briefly stays. 

But fragrance into lusciousness is changed, 

For beauty in some form will e’er endure; 

The petal lines most wondrously arranged 

Are traced within the fruit now grown mature. 

Fair lasting beauty’s in the heart of things, 
Supernal bliss is in the growing deed, 

Supreme felicity most nimbly springs 
From great and noble action as its seed. 

With God ideal is the actual, 

The moral end consummately achieved; 

With beast, which brutal feels no ethic call, 

The actual’s ideal full-received. 


ii6 


QUEST AND QUERY 


In man the vision with the fact should blend, 

The progress of the pleasures of the soul, 

Ideal to the actual should tend 

With pure progressive ethic as its goal. 

All detrimental deeds should be expelled, 

For ruthless deed bedims pure vision’s beams, 

The soul attains, from brutish life withheld, 

The consummation of its moral dreams. 

A pure predisposition firmly fixed 

Repels the sordid passions of the soul, 

When God, the sacred Spirit-life, unmixed, 

Rules in man’s ransomed life throughout the 
whole. 

Then hope exceeds faint phosphorescent gleams, 
Mere dazzling zenith far above our reach; 

The substance takes its place, and richly streams 
In limpid laving waves across the beach. 

Then life no longer rests in hopes that guess, 
O’erleaps impediments which bar its course; 

Unfriendly circumstances link to bless 

The soul that sways the world by moral force. 

Life’s beauteous bliss, felicitously true, 

Dwells in the soul of optimistic man; 

’Tis change of mind transmuting old to new, 

That makes true bliss e’er since the world began. 

For happiness is not in fragile things, 

But in the blending sweetness of the soul; 

In heart that ’mid its hardships bravely sings, 

To arduous duty pays its genial toll. 

X 

All Hallow E ’en! 

Full ripe’s the hastening year, 

The sapless stem makes sere 
The fading green. 


THE WAY TO HAPPINESS 


117 


All Hallow E’en! 

The frosted nut, and brown, 

From bough comes tumbling down 
For sweet Sixteen. 

The apple seed 
Pops plumply to the left; 

Some bashful lad’s bereft 
Of popping deed. 

The bursted corn 
White off the heated coals 
Fills up the buttered bowls; 

Now blow the horn, 

And blithely dance 
Around the festooned hall; 

Let’s have a merry ball 

With children’s prance. 

The parents’ smile 
Spreads sunshine o’er the group, 

The gaily whirling troupe 
The hours beguile. 

’Tis ten o’clock, 

And in the trundle-bed 
Sweet dreams, when prayers are said 
By little flock. 

The year is sage, 

The tree grows bent with fruit; 
Worn shoulders bow to suit 
Maturing age. 

All Hallow E’en! 

When youth and age combine, 

And love’s sweet tendrils twine; 
We’re all sixteen. 


CANTO VII 


THE REALM OF LOVE 

I 

I love the evening cirrus cloud, 

I love the tinted sky, 

The softly-tinged translucent shroud 
Of daylight gliding by. 

I love the rich responsive soul, 

The liquid bright-gemmed eye, 
Where mirrored lies affection’s scroll 
In shyness glancing by. 

I love the azure deep, so vast, 

I love the star-decked dome, 

The Milky Way with mist o’ercast, 
Where climbing thoughts may roam. 

I love still deeper vaster things, 

I love the deep, deep Soul, 

In which divinest beauty sings, 

Where boundless aeons roll. 

II 

A wistful longing in the twilight grey, 

A craving for companionship and rest, 

Steals o’er the soul when the departing day 
With hooded shadows faces to the west. 

Faith is the soul’s right attitude to God, 

And grace divine God’s attitude to men; 

Some fadeless impress marks the footsteps trod, 
Which led from God, and to Himself again. 

118 


THE REALM OF LOVE 


119 

Hope harbors love, but stands outside with pains 
Still throbbing, while its satisfactions stray; 

Nor faith, nor hope, the real thing contains, 
They only anchor in the misty way. 

Some portrait of Himself our God has left 
Upon the soft-dissolving views of time, 

His secret movements cannot be bereft 
Of ethic grace, of loveliness sublime. 

God’s conduct must express His inner life, 

His deeds be true exponents of His will, 

Within His will must be no moral strife, 
Self-exposition must excite no chill. 

God bides the same, though circumstances change, 
Once Love, forever He must love, and act, 

To vanquish all conditions that estrange, 

With fascinating methods that attract. 

Ill 

Tell it low, 

Tell it slow, 

Of a maid, who long ago 
Charmed the youth who loved her so, 

Shot an arrow from her bow, 

Pierced his heart, and brought it low 
At her feet, 

Victim sweet. 

Soul, awake! 

For truth’s sake! 

See her fickle heart opaque, 

Calm in act as placid lake, 

Spurning turn, and love forsake, 

Till she hears his heartstrings break. 
That such woe 
One should know! 


120 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Tell it low, 

Tale of woe, 

How a youth so free and bold 
Found his years grow strangely old; 

No relief from heartache cold, 

No sure cure save churchyard mould; 
Tale of woe, 

Long ago. 

IV 

From deep conspiracy of silence rise 

The worlds, to which attached is sentient life; 

What is the mind, the meaning of the skies, 

The universe, are they with purport rife? 

There is some central principle around 
Which circulates each rotatory sphere, 

Some central point in azure depths profound, 

That draws, or leads, as guiding pioneer. 

Some cause began, and still proceeds to rule, 

From zero passed to rich infinity; 

Some power has carved the spheres without a tool, 
And balanced space and form in equity. 

The selfish life resists all otherness, 

’Tis love alone that ever would create, 

And deign to pass beyond itself to bless, 

For other life would open wide the gate. 

The sense of need to make the self complete 
Cannot be motive adequate to make 

A moral universe. Great thoughts retreat 
From any impulse less than others’ sake. 

Mere self-projection as creative aim, 

Extension of the self to realize 

A deeper consciousness wherein to frame 
An ego of illimitable size, 


THE REALM OF LOVE 


121 


Connotes a cause too weak to frame a world. 

In will, self-end transcending far above, 

An altruistic sense must rest impearled, 

For otherness is the first step of love. 

V 

We meet the gaze of friendly eyes, 

And clasp the warming hand; 

Yet something furtive underlies 
We cannot understand. 

Beneath the mutual word-exchange 
That sweetly speaks of joy, 

And timid glances at short range, 

Modest without alloy, 

The mind reads mind, and heart feels heart, 
Yet will some thought remand 

Into some recess to depart, 

We cannot understand. 

There is exclusive in each life 
A region of retreat, 

A place where words are rarely rife, 

Where spirits seldom meet; 

The inner life’s most sacred place, 

A sensitive domain, 

Where soul-affection veils its face, 

Where rarest friends attain; 

The secret province of the heart 
Where God joins hand with hand, 

The closest bond of heavenly art 
But two can understand. 

It is a realm so sensitive, 

From converse far apart, 

Suspicion makes it tentative, 

Pierced by misgiving’s dart. 


122 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Insinuation’s hurtful thrust 
Can cut the silken cord; 

Unsullied love deprived of trust 
May find itself debarred. 

Extraneous friendship’s jealous eyes 
Impeachments interpose 

To sever most celestial ties, 

Yet can no wrongs disclose. 

Misapprehension’s dreams invade, 
And consonance foreclose, 

Yet give to verity no aid, 

But only wrongs suppose. 

The brotherhood of men is lost, 

The noblest hearts aggrieved, 

Communion closed at countless cost, 
When truth is not perceived. 

The heart that opens to a friend 
To scan its sacred shrine, 

And feels how spirits interblend 
As clinging tendrils twine, 

Has found a refuge from the throng 
Insatiate surging by; 

Life’s painful strains blend into song 
With gently smothered sigh. 

When intermeddling alien ill 
This holy league invades, 

And seeks the sunlit soul to fill 
With grievous gloomy shades, 

A choking sense of loneliness 
O’erwhelms the tremulous soul, 

As ruptured vines of tenderness 
Deflected from their goal. 


THE REALM OF LOVE 


123 


The bruised sensibility 
Sore chastened in its trust, 

Retires in deep humility 
Its ensign trailed in dust. 

In grief o’er ravished confidence 
Despondence gives command; 

The thoughtless show indifference, 

They cannot understand. 

VI 

Such opposites as weal and woe exist 
As make it seem incredible that God 
Has made His revelation clear; for mist 

Must dim the eye, or drowsy mind must nod, 

E’er to surmise that antithetic states 

Of endless joy, and ceaseless gnawing pain 
Could ever come to being, since God hates 
Base blighting ills, and holds them in disdain. 

But just in this, the vital truth we grasp, 

That man, created like a god, may love 
What God disdains, choiceful may fondly clasp 
Some serpent truth, instead of spirit-dove, 

In zeal as wise as serpent to become 
May fail to be as harmless as a dove, 

And freely take to realize life’s sum 

A downward course in lieu of heights above. 

This law we see in all the truths God sows, 

The man that toys with hands unsoiled in gloves, 
Transmuting virtues into vices, grows 
Into the likeness of the thing he loves. 

’Tis not enough to love; but love of what? 

An object pure, disinterested, fair, 

An end each ardent day that’s nobly sought, 

Transforms the life, and makes the soul God’s 
heir. 


124 QUEST AND QUERY 

VII 

How loudly ticks the noisy clock, 
And not a sound besides, 

The painful echoes rudely mock 
The silence that abides. 

Alone I sit and sadly muse, 

My mind reverts in pain 

To dreams defaulted that abuse 
Reluctant hopes that wane. 

How few the friendly hearts that beat 
Among the transient throng; 

And yet the few would gladly greet, 

If they but knew the song, 

Whose tender cadence could compose 
The throbbings of the heart, 

Which suffers wordless pressing woes, 
With healing social art. 

The craving of the heart to know 
The blending little things, 

Whose genial movements to and fro 
Give life its social wings, 

Finds its appeasement in the small 
And not gigantic deeds, 

That faintly tell, or speak at all, 

Of what affection needs. 

Too much we aim to do great things, 
And slight the little task; 

To do the simple greatly, brings 
Just what our cravings ask. 

VIII 

When solitude came forth and did divide, 

And thus make possible opposing wills, 

A principle of union was supplied 
Remedial of life’s sad discordant ills. 


THE REALM OF LOVE 


125 


Pure holiness may be of one alone, 

And dwell apart in apathetic calm, 

But love, the symphony of purest tone, 

Demands a chordal note to blend in psalm. 

For love is social and requires two 
To form a true and amicable grace; 

When life is tinged by sad and sombre hue 
It longs to find response in friendly face. 

Love is explanatory of the deeds 

Of noblest men. The moral radiance 

Of great diffusive souls, creative leads 
To rich superlatives of life’s romance. 

Cold admiration faintly gratifies, 

Heart-hunger deeply craves enfoldedness, 

Responsive warmth the longing satisfies, 
Affection’s recompensed by nothing less. 

Love lights the path; the course alone is dark 
To those whose purpose is opaque to light 

Of ethic truth and charm. A genial spark 

Of lovingkindness makes the dark world bright. 

The deeds that spring from calculation keen 
To reach a consummation subtly planned, 

Too coldly touch the heart of man, and screen 
A frigidness that prompts the moving hand. 

IX 

The gift I give is not for gain, 

Simple it is and true, 

For what I give I do retain, 

Remembrance kind of you. 

And none could buy the gift I give, 

Nor would I make it less, 

This sacred boon I freely live 
Extends to you to bless. 


126 


QUEST AND QUERY 


That which endures when all else fails, 
Spontaneously I send; 

It modestly its secret veils, 

’Tis life as noblest friend. 

Which greater is, to say, or be? 

What costlier than life? 

The soul that breathes its liberty 
In friendship without strife, 

Gives joy and peace and righteousness, 
The heaven of the self, 

Where eyes of kindred souls caress, 
Where stir no dreams of pelf. 

X 

Too much we seek to do great things, and fail 
To see wherein true greatness lies. To do 
The simple splendidly, we flinching, quail, 

And vainly fitful shadows would pursue. 

Life’s small delights we hesitate to share, 

And slight the treasures of the hurried day, 
Withholding boons, we wrongfully forbear, 
Till opportunity has passed away. 

Sometimes we give in thought, if not in act, 
Until too late the deed, occurrence slipped 
Into the listless bygone of the fact; 

And then the tardy heart so deeply dipped 
In penitential dye turns purest white, 

And afterdeed tells more of tenderness 
Than first was felt. 


The life to liberal height 
Exalted, now escapes the slenderness 
Of prior purpose, and pulsates in throbs 
Of unforgetting generousness. The slow 
And loitering will, that unintentionally robs 
The genial gifts which promptness can bestow, 


THE REALM OF LOVE 


127 


When waked from over-timid modesty, 

Declares with deeper feeling what beneath 
The surface lies. 

The deeds that tenderly 
Awake from shyness, and so softly breathe 
Aroma from the bloom of heart restrained, 

Speak words of true and rare significance; 

The eyes that chastely from fond look refrained, 
At length surrender deep indulging glance. 

In retrospection, when our thoughts unweave, 

The soul would scan the day in calm review, 
From conscious wrong would win a just reprieve 
By mind’s reverse to frame life’s deeds anew. 

XI 

Through winter snows and summer dells 
I wander oft alone 
’Mid trees that sigh and moan, 

And hear the distant striking bells 
Tell how 

Allotted strokes which days allow, 

Their hours fulfil so well, 

Their message truly tell, 

That I am living only now, 

Just now! 

Those bells will toll my moments gone 
In solemn lay, some day, 

And friends will softly say, 

“How fair the form we look upon.” 

My brow 

So cold in death, and dreamless now, 

They’ll touch in tenderness, 

And gently will caress; 

But why not speak it softly now, 

Just now! 


128 


QUEST AND QUERY 


They’ll say, “How sweet she dressed her hair, 
So beautiful and neat,” 

And whisper praises meet 

Of graces rare I used to hear; 

Allow 

From recollection, softened now, 

My faults gently to fade, 

With full forgiveness paid; 

Yet why not say it kindly now, 

Just now! 

My heart is lone amid the crowd, 

For love has hungered long 
For one sweet tender song 

To still the pain that cries aloud. 

Endow 

Affection’s will with voice to avow, 

With kind responsive touch, 

In ways we love so much, 

The tender words so fitting now, 

Just now! 

The gracious words that come too late, 

That shirk to speak of love, 

Descend now as a dove! 

To the great soul all things are great, 

So now, 

To thee, my friend, my heart would bow, 
And speak its message bold, 

Which sometime should be told; 

So then, I frankly tell it now, 

Just now! 

XII 

No gallant bold chivalric deed so fine 

As this, to manifest our loving God, 

And win His gift so beauteous and divine 

For those who need the boon. Above the sod 


the realm of love 


129 


There grows no fragrant rose, no flower so rare, 
As human soul, so delicate to touch 

Of human clasp, so needing clement care 
As not to pale by handling overmuch. 

No sphere for brave dominion-seeking man 
More worthy of heroic chivalry 

Than that which holy martyr lives began, 
Fair-robed in spotless sainted livery, 

To furnish dying men with living bread, 

Famished for drink lost through some draining 
sieve, 

Alive enough to know that they are dead, 

But not so dead as not to know they live. 

The quests of love betimes conflict with peace; 
To rise aloft the base is trodden down, 

And martial evil will achieve release 

To war with good, and wrest its royal crown. 

Yet slumbering in the wicked heart are dreams 
Of love. The wildest battle orgies rave 

Within the breast of blighted man, where gleams 
Some sense of boons which blunt affections crave. 

Though low the fires of kindly nature burn, 

The flame of clemency almost expire, 

There’s manhood yet. Inspection can discern 
Some native good the generous must admire. 

XIII 

The feminine of fellowship, 

The robust man’s desire, 

Concur to press affection’s lip, 

And social good inspire. 

The swain pursues his complement, 

The maiden coy responds, 

All life is linked to sentiment 
With indissoluble bonds. 


3 QUEST AND QUERY 

The lover’s frequent token seeks 

To touch admiring eyes, 

But with frank effort faintly speaks 
The sense that underlies. 

It speaks a language of its own, 

Which love alone commands, 

And is articulate alone 
To one who understands. 

Like heliotrope to travelling sun, 

The star-dust into earth, 

Life’s duals center into one, 

Affections come to birth. 

Love is a form of vital pelf, 

Though generous be the grace; 

Yet selfishness ends not in self, 

But multiplies the race. 

The world of loving multiples 
Becomes the social sphere, 

Where civilizing chasteness culls 
The sweets that life holds dear. 

XIV 

Pure love is never more than satisfied, 

Content but for a time. ’Tis ceaseless love 

Of something that will regnantly preside 
O’er energetic wills, and woo the dove 

From ark of leisure fleet to wing its course 
In zeal to seek some fruitful olive branch. 

Love’s strong desire, her persevering force, 
Confronts no equal power, nor spur so staunch. 

More sweetly than the tongue of angels speaks 
She to the eager heart; and wins her cause. 

Mellifluously luring through the weeks 

Of toil, strong love supports, and knows no 

pause. 


THE REALM OF LOVE 


i 3 i 

The nocturn mourning note, the midnight mood, 
Most sensitively tender, yet withal, 

The virile soul, finds love the life’s true food, 
Rich sustenance, the viand cardinal. 

This rich incentive is ambition’s might, 
Expressed in action fine, or fury’s ire, 

Which leaves the victor in applauding light, 

Or in disdain to pine with sick desire. 

XV 

I oft had dreamed of love, and thought 
Of valorous deeds he boldly wrought, 

That hero with a heart so true. 

While in the quiet deed of pain 
Another hero sought my gain, 

And loved more truly than I knew. 

I dreamed of love so fond and deep, 

Excelling joys that overleap 

The stars that fill the azure blue. 
Beneath the dreams so halcyon 
There flowed a tide of grace from one 
Who loved more deeply than I knew. 

Love’s semblance in ambition’s fold 
I saw beneath the smile of gold, 

And garish garb of social hue. 

Suspicion shunned designs impure, 

While lived despite the guiles that lure, 

His love more noble than I knew. 

I sighed for one, mount-lifting strong, 

Whose love could right my every wrong, 

The hero of the valiant few; 

But saw one simply condescend 
To lift small pebbles and defend 

A smooth plain pathway all life through. 


QUEST AND QUERY 

I longed for one luxurious, led 
Where sweet mellifluous pathways wed 
The freshness of the morning dew; 
And saw him aimless walk the street, 
Inane, sleek-mannered, mawkish sweet, 

A placid empty parvenu. 

Fickle affirmatives of friend 
Unwittingly their voices lend 

To prove untrue the words that sue. 
Despite my scruples and my hates 
Enduringly in patience waits 

A love more friendly than I knew. 

Disdainfully I let him keep 
That love, the love of one so cheap, 

Who loving others, loved me too. 
But priceless, pure his love as chrism, 
Embracing e’en my cynicism, 

His love to which I bade adieu. 

Through sunny days, and cloudy days, 
Through all my devious troubled ways 
In which I sought the good, the true, 
The beautiful so underlay 
My life by his ingenuous sway 

In unknown measure as I grew. 

In secret silence to his soul 
Pathetic pleasure paid its toll, 

As grace its charms around me threw. 
Rejoiced at sweetness in my heart 
In which his prowess had a part, 

He loved more gladly than I knew. 

Of crosses borne, he bore men’s leers, 
Disdained to weaken self by tears, 

Content life’s purpose to pursue. 

And while requitals were delayed, 

Large kind affections passed unpaid, 

He loved me better than I knew. 


THE REALM OF LOVE 


133 


XVI 

Our God is not mere purpose, nor alone, 

Firm power energizing to an end; 

By generous robust tread of moral tone 

Life’s movements with His gracious goings blend. 

The petty things of earth e’er fade away 
Before the largeness of the thought of God; 

The soul that takes of self a clear survey 

May well escape contempt, and censure’s rod. 

One’s capability may far exceed 
Ambition to excel; another’s aim 

May far transcend his predicable deed, 

Ambition flare a much too brilliant flame. 

The fair reward of noble toil is worth 

Of nobler self. The pleasure-giving grace 

Of simple service wakes to joyous birth 

The sweet content, which moulds the kindly face. 

The cordial balm of brotherhood can soothe 

The hardships of the hearts which burdens bear, 

And from the eyes may gleam sweet moods that 
smooth 

The wrinkles from the brow of pinching care. 

Pure love e’er feels genteel timidities, 

Discourtesies it measures with a moan, 

When unrequited in amenities, 

Rejected, has a beauty of its own. 

The deed that’s kind, and brave, and beautiful, 

Is not achieved by craving to be seen; 

But gently captive to the dutiful 

Enchants and gladdens life in silent mien. 

We would do good in deeds of heroism, 

Which speed sweet rescue to earth’s prisoned 
souls, 

Expend our lives, baptized with sacred chrism, 
Uplifting life one stage each hour that tolls. 


134 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Our aspiration is but feeble breath 
Without an inspiration from on high, 

Our moral efforts meet a hurried death 
When on frail self we vainly would rely. 

Our thoughts of goodness poor and faulty are, 
And yet of noble kinship to the true; 

Though we pursue perfection from afar, 

We see its star soft-guiding in the blue. 

The islands of our hope are not mere sands 
That float upon a shoreless ocean vast, 

But finger-tips of widely submerged lands 

That rise above the waves when storm is past. 

Well spent the day, and with no sense of loss, 
When evening brings the soul’s tranquillity, 

While shadows of good conduct fall across 
The threshold of reviewing memory. 

XVII 

On a slope of the mountain 
By a tree-bordered lane 
Stands a small weathered cottage, 

A true rural fane, 

Which shelters a spinster 
Whose sweet saintly face 
Is the winsome expression 
Of long cultured grace. 

In the days that were youthful, 

By unfailing rule 
She found her choice pleasure 
In the staid country school, 

Where daily she studied 
In secret delight 
With a bashful companion 
Who blushed at her sight. 


THE REALM OF LOVE 


135 


Affectionate motive 
Unconsciously strove, 

And with love’s kind attention 
Learning’s facts interwove. 

The best in her nature 
By love was allured, 

And distresses of hardships 
Were blithely endured. 

But the luring companion, 

The lad that she loved, 

Was in destiny guided 

By a hand that was gloved, 

For providence ruling 
Soon severed the pair, 
Before their affections 

Love’s troth might declare. 

And the lad was conducted 
In sacred career 
To the office of prophet 
And spiritual seer. 

Pursuing a purpose 
That destiny urged, 

His life in its progress 

With distant scenes merged, 

And he severed forever 
The ties of his youth 
In his fervent endeavor 
To realize truth. 

And the little brown cottage 
By the tree-bordered lane, 
That witnessed no courtship 
Of lover or swain, 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Was patient to nestle 
In the amorous lane, 

And harbor no murmur, 

Nor a thought that’s profane. 

The roses that clambered 
High up on the wall, 

And deepened the shadows 
In the neat little hall, 

Flung widely a fragrance, 

As of perfumed grace, 
Confederate to beauty 
That dwelt in the place. 

Of graces whose essence 
Ennobles the soul, 

More winsome than roses 
That furnish their dole, 

Was the attar of sweetness 
In the redolent life 
Of the silver-tressed inmate, 
Who mastered the strife 

Of injured affections, 

That are wont to defeat 
The soul’s hale composure, 

And its virtues escheat. 

Supreme is the value 
Of the childlike trust, 

That submits to the Father 
The things that are just, 

And has an affection 
For the infinite worth 
Of the masterful valor 
That conquers the earth. 


THE REALM OF LOVE 


137 


Unexplainable sorrows 
Of social despair 
Are hidden by curtains 
That secret hearts wear. 

But happy the nature 
That talks to the skies, 

And sees deprivations 
As gifts in disguise, 

That holds calm communion 
With spirits that sail 
In the ocean of being 
Which mists thickly veil. 

To dwell neath the starlight 
In richness of soul, 

And feel the emotion 
Of ages that roll, 

Is the pose of the mystic, 

The grace of the few, 
While the hearts of the many 
For fellowship sue. 

In the little brown cottage 
That stands by the lane 
Dwells a virgin, not mystic, 
But simple and plain, 

Whose dreams are not cosmic, 
With visions unreal, 

And unlike the stoic, 

Her sympathies feel. 

The blooms on her bosom, 

The rosebuds red, 

Shade vital pulsations 

Where affections have bled. 


138 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The lines of her countenance 
Tenderly true 
To the beauty of spirit 
By which patience grew, 

Her eyes, the deep well-spring 
Of kindliest love, 

Her lips, the expression 
Of emotions that strove 

To conquer rebellion, 

And subdue the unrest, 

That would ruffle the calmness 
That reigns in the breast, 

Her graces of manner,— 
Reveal no chagrin 
O’er defeated ideals 

That once might have been. 

The rosebud of crimson 
Twined with her grey hair 
Is a symbol of glory 

That sainted souls wear. 

The life that’s superior 
To tragedy’s rule, 

With pain and compassion 
Goes nobly to school. 

The little brown cottage 
By the tree-bordered lane, 
That witnessed no courtship 
Of lover or swain, 

Is patient to nestle 
In the shadowy lane, 

And harbor no murmur, 

Nor thought that’s profane. 


THE REALM OF LOVE 


139 


XVIII 

Great souls, and sensitive, most kindly feel 
That other souls are necessary parts 

Of purpose in this world of fevered zeal, 

And love’s sweet sequence seek in others’ hearts. 

God guides the life in richest consonance 

Which treads the path that shares earth’s com¬ 
mon good; 

The fullest happiness is not of chance, 

But comes in paths of cordial brotherhood. 

He has the equipoise of strength who knows 
To put himself in others’ hearts, instead 

Of snatching treasures from created foes, 

And making others’ loss his daily bread. 

His eye is trained to see great sights, who sees 
A germal friend in every beating heart, 

Who faithfully endures with patient ease 
Exasperations rising from the mart. 

Within the soul that’s merely negative 
In stoic self-composure ’mid the scene 

Of truckling pluck, where snatchers take and give, 
There is the lack of moral charms serene, 

Whose ethic graces tranquillize the soul 
Of higher rank. The sins of virile men 

Are largely corporate, in which control 
The careful private conscience says amen 

To business acts that rob and vitiate 
Industrial states of toiling humankind. 

Fraternal is the answer well to state 
How plight of inequalities may find 

Redemption from conditions grossly base, 

Imposed by men who promptly coalesce 

In vicious schemes that witlessly disgrace 
A state of cultured man. We do confess 


140 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Our private unconcealed unworthiness, 

Then strangely yoke ourselves to fellow-wrongs 

Whose bleeding gains we call success, 

And scorn to reckon where the sin belongs. 

In quest of cause of direful social ills 

The conscience of the waking world is stirred, 

To rescue soundly from the callous wills 

Which long against salvation have demurred. 

The quest of love, God’s kindly grace to me, 

Has turned its gaze to my good will to man. 

God’s pleased in me when I am pleased to see 
My own good deed my brother’s artizan. 

Artistic work is making love to men, 

And causing chains of brotherhood to join 

That love with ties that bind each citizen 
With manacles of gold none can purloin. 

Our welfare has its economic side; 

God and His justice are alone our health 

When rescue and damnation both betide, 

For he who lives of wealth shall die of wealth. 

The realm of monied pride and despotism, 

The aristocracy of circumstance, 

Shall quake and quail before the conquering chrism 
Of social love, which wields a moral lance. 

The cosmic stream of life has changing phase 
As soul breaks through mere circumstance and 
moulds 

Creative evolution in earth’s clays, 

Unwraps its sacred treasures from their folds. 

The quest of love supremely is the quest 
Of brotherhood. A brother holds the key 

To God’s supernal kingdom to invest 
The soul with true authority to see 


THE REALM OF LOVE 


141 


The face of God; for he who loves not man 
Whom he has seen, how can he love the God 
Whom he has never seen? since life began 
No other likeness issued from the clod. 

XIX 

The calm of delicate feeling, 

The aesthetic of the mind, 

The generous grace of beauty 
In which the world’s enshrined, 

Fall short of the soul’s affection, 

The grace of personal love, 

A delicate emotion 

iLsthetic thrills above. 

The beautiful tint of the rainbow 
On the mist of the waterfall, 

The glint of the snow-clad summit, 

The traveller’s Alpine call, 

The glorious sheen of sunset 
That chastely kisses the sky, 

Where bloom immaculate blushes 
As the crimson clouds go by, 

Are inconstant charms of nature 
That stimulate delight, 

Precarious moods of matter 
That stroll within our sight. 

There is more of God in the bootblack, 
Or in the mountain shepherd boy, 

Than in tints of falling waters 
In their rainbow spray of joy. 

For God is mirrored in matter, 

But dwells in the soul’s romance, 

And love belongs to the living, 

Revealed in reciprocal glance. 


142 


QUEST AND QUERY 


There’s a love that can be commanded, 
Obedient to the will, 

An edict of estimation 
Man’s conduct can fulfil, 

The love which we owe our neighbor, 
As to ourselves we owe, 

Diverse from the love that’s plighted 
Under the mistletoe. 

The love that’s enjoined as precept 
Is reverence and esteem 
For children in God’s own likeness, 

Who dream delightful dream, 

Which man’s deliberate kindness, 
Obedient to command, 

Fulfils in the boons of dreamland 
Made real by social hand. 

The self is esteemed for culture, 

With worthiness as its aim, 

A privilege we should proffer 
To our neighbor as his claim. 

XX 

There’s affection independent, 

Not subject to command, 

Spontaneous free attachment, 

Which lovers understand, 

A dulcet kindred fondness, 

Involuntary pose, 

Affinity’s endearment 

Which reciprocals enclose. 

From sources shyly secret 

Comes love no will can rouse, 

A tenderness that only 

Kindred likeness can espouse, 


THE REALM OF LOVE 


143 


An emotion that’s peculiar, 

Defiant of blockades, 

Concurrence whose dominion 
Compulsion ne’er invades. 

XXI 

Who owns all earth’s possessions 
Owns fellow-mortals’ hate, 

Love absent e’er makes vagrant 
Rich-tenured celibate. 

Sole owner of all knowledge 
Lacks sadly other gain, 

The ignorant in suspicion 
Expel him in disdain. 

The will of wealth is social 
To seek fraternal fame, 

To escape existence empty 
Spends goods to win acclaim, 

For realms where love is absent 
Have nothing that’s complete, 

Such sphere supremely selfish 
Gives the lonesome ample seat. 

XXII 

Imperishable well to be 
A true chivalric friend, 

Ecstatic is the coterie 

Where mental colors blend. 

The clamorous courtier dotes upon 
The man of circumstance; 

On purchaseable boons to fawn 
Wins frail inheritance. 


144 


QUEST AND QUERY 


As social moments swiftly fly, 

Amenities disguise 
The hidden feelings that belie 
The lips that idolize. 

Why energize at all, unless 
To win substantial good, 

Superbly idle just to bless 
With words’ beatitude. 

Yet strangely to false terms we cling 
With fitful fickle clasp, 

Believing the untrue may bring 
The steadfast for our grasp. 

And thus the years speed swiftly round 
Lured by fictitious joys, 

Expectancy still homeward bound 
Dallies with sateless toys. 

True treasure-trove is friendly friend, 
Unconsciously he serves, 

The generous gift his tastes extend 
His courteous self subserves. 

He grows into the likeness of 
Disinterested deed, 

His noble altruistic love 
Becomes his own soul’s mead. 

XXIII 

There’s subtle charm in absent friends, 
A halo, cloak, or spur, 

Glamour the distant fault amends, 
Kind memory sees no blur. 

The value-judgment courteous, 

Fancy’s enchanting art, 

A halo paints most emulous, 

Which spreads from head to heart. 


THE REALM OF LOVE 


145 


Inspection absent from the test 
Enshrines another’s grace; 

To emulate things at their best 
Creates angelic face. 


And through this mirror of the soul 
We see life’s inner part, 

Pure admiration finds its goal, 
Regenerated heart. 

The highest concepts of our mind 
Construct ideas great; 

Lofty ideals deeds unwind 

From schemes our thoughts create. 

Ideas great may idle be, 

Ideals ever strive, 

Thoughts harborless are e’er at sea, 
At port great deeds arrive. 

XXIV 

I would not that we drift apart 
Throughout the coming years, 

But firmly set our wills athwart 
The boastful pride that queers. 


For temperaments are all diverse, 
Which strangely mate our loves, 
If differing traits were to disperse, 
There were many cooless doves. 


Then be not piqued at some dissent, 
Diverse ’tis well to be, 

And sweet may be the wise assent 
To agree to disagree. 


146 QUEST AND QUERY 

XXV 

As nature abhors a vacuum, 

It abhors a straight line too, 

If tweedledee differs from tweedledum, 

The decision lies with you. 

For me you may set the camera wry, 

And take the picture askew; 

If you’re anxious to know the reason why, 

’Tis the difference ’twixt me and you. 

XXVI 

In diverse disposition there is none that can find 
The values complete for desire, 

Experience enlarges the hungering mind, 

New loves set the soul on fire. 

There is none that is perfect, no, not one! 

Yet perfection is the soul’s acclaim, 

Ever something that fails in comparison, 

Some quality subject to blame. 

Impersonal dainties are wont to usurp 
The claims of our tenderness, 

The chatter of birds, and the chipmunk’s chirp, 
The mystic’s affection address. 

The star is his sister, and the sky happy brother, 
Non-morals appeal to his sense, 

The beautiful world is called on to mother 
The craving for excellence. 

XXVII 

The birds and buds, sweet messengers, 

Upon the breezes flung, 

Speak to the soul that kindred stirs, 

In a familiar tongue. 


THE REALM OF LOVE 


147 


The grasses in the mossy dell 
Bedew the fairy feet 

Of agile winds that naively tell 
Where love and lovers meet. 

The boldly gallant lancet thorn 
Defends the tender rose; 

’Mid poignant spurs the sweet is born, 
For so the story goes. 

The beautiful, the true, the good, 

Sub rosa need not dwell; 

Such graces need not cloak, nor hood, 
But sound a clarion bell. 

No moral beauty without tears, 

No sweetest rose apart 

From nightly dew; so thorns and fears 
Expertly pierce the heart. 

For who can reconcile the tears, 

The pains that grieve and smart, 

With moral sweetness that appears 
Just where the teardrops start! 

Unlovely means no lovely end 
Can win, or ever hold, 

Desires won by downward trend 
No real good enfold. 

To gain by wrongness in the deed 
Is not to have at all; 

We cannot be both wrong in greed, 
And happy in the fall. 

To sip sweet nectar in the field 
A buttercup’s a dole, 

Just at the dawn when dewdrops yield 
From opening golden bowl. 


148 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The daisies wake from folded sleep, 

Lay bare their blossom dreams, 

And ne’er a secret can they keep, 

But scatter to the streams. 

Nasturtiums, not sweet, but strong, 
Donate their ample good; 

Not best they who can do no wrong, 

But would not when they could. 

By beaming bold ambitious hue 
They beautify the earth, 

And though sweet fragrance they eschew, 
There are other things of worth. 

The conscious clover smiles around 
And blushes to the breeze, 

And modest bends low to the ground 
When kissed by humblebees. 

Her simple unobtrusive charms 
The insects winged espy, 

Oft visited by stinging harms 
Gives nectar in reply. 

The appleblossom cheers the day 
That’s purposeful and sweet, 

From fragrance of the dewy May 
Till frosts and apples meet. 

Sweet fragrance now as lusciousness 
The apple rich enchains, 

The blossom in its loveliness 
Within the heart remains. 

The hollyhocks by megaphone 
Shape horns of richest hue, 

And every fearless clarion tone 
Says something sweet of you. 


THE REALM OF LOVE 


149 


Now pluck the bloom in morning glow, 
And in the trumpet peep, 

Lo! there you’ll find the dream of snow, 
For there the dewdrops sleep. 

A dream’s the lily, purest, fair, 

In which all beauties blend, 

Its fragrant breathings on the air 
Immaculate sweetness lend. 

The fairest of the many hues, 

The sweetest of the throng, 

Soft-glistening in the rainbow dews 
The lily lives in song. 

Distil will I its fragrance pure 
To essence of love’s heart, 

As perfumed grace it shall endure 
And redolence impart. 

Just what the dewy flowers say 
We sweetly should say too; 

And let them whisper what they may, 
’Tis all of love for you. 

XXVIII 

Each faculty of sense awakes to meet 
External things objective to> itself; 

The soul’s desire for life that is complete 
Suggests that ripeness is, and not as elf, 

Or fairy figment of creative mind, 

Flits by imaginary and unreal; 

Creative nature were indeed unkind 
Its virtuous suggestions to repeal. 

Love is of God, for God is love, and he 
Who loveth not is far from God; sublime 

The aspiration for infinity, 

To this high goal our lofty cravings climb. 


150 QUEST AND QUERY 

The highest goal of love we rarely reach, 

Our longings quiver in their sore defeat; 

With buoyant hallowed dreams we fill the breach, 
With lyric ballad grace the incomplete. 

XXIX 

’Tis only sweet flowers that softly may tell 
The dream that was in my heart, 

The high aspirations that wandered and fell, 

As the stars moved widely apart. 

Though faded the laurels, and famished the dew, 
And sere grow the life of the sage, 

The bloom and the fading were both lived for you, 
And the story, an unwritten page. 

XXX 

While memory weaves 
The texture of the years 
From fading leaves, 

Which iridescent tears 
Have sanctified, 

Sweet peace abide 

With thee, dear friend 

Of mine. Thy kindly heart 
Angels defend ; 

From lurking ill apart 
Dwell thou in peace 
While years increase. 

Thy thirsty soul 

Full sweetness realize; 

Throughout the whole 

Bright journey to the skies, 

Where pathways bend 
May faith attend. 


THE REALM OF LOVE 


151 


The hope that fills 
Ambitions incomplete, 

The calm that stills 

The tread of hurried feet, 
Bring to thy sigh 
Sweet lullaby. 

Thy name be dear, 

O friend of mine, to those 
Listening to hear 

Where blooms the thornless rose, 
The aftermath 
Of rugged path. 

Starry thy dome, 

Neath which be true thy deed; 
God’s heart thy home, 

While angels gently lead 
By tender hand 

To love’s own land. 


CANTO VIII 


THE QUEST OF THE GOOD 

I 

In hunger for some satisfying thing 

We speed from dainty bud to fragrant flower; 
Our fond desire is ever on the wing 
To find its surfeit of enriching dower. 

Our earthly goods but feign to gratify, 

’Tis God that gifts us with the exquisite, 

The Spirit-gift, the answer to the sigh 
Of finite man for God, the Infinite. 

The good is to be had, but goodness we 
Must be. To realize consummate wealth, 

And thrive, our lives must be a harmony; 

Abiding good resides with moral health. 

Man’s goodness is an attribute, his goods 
But adjuncts of the self. To realize 
True health mere boons are naught but seasoned 
foods 

To banquet well a soul of liberal size. 

Substantial souls may batten on a crumb, 

But gold-screened poverty of mind prevents 
The soul’s true health; to have and to become 
Constructs the good, and nothing else contents. 

The God who made this world and fashioned well 
Its mobile parts in their presaging maidenhood, 
152 


THE QUEST OF THE GOOD 153 

Who wished immortal weal, and willed no hell, 
Looked on the world He made, and said, “ ’Tis 
good, 

’Tis very good.” 


But stately will of man 
Created like the God who nobly made 
Him capable to choose that which began 
To make the world a moral realm, did fade 
In its unruly owner into state 

Of wilfulness. Estranged from holy aim, 
Man chose in lieu of love, tormenting hate, 
Misusing virtues, gave them evil fame. 


Pure aspiration shuns wild passion’s greed, 

The good ignobly won is alien ill; 

Man’s nobler cravings have their proper mead, 
In aspiration grace may linger still. 

In coarse contempt this world I would not flee, 
Lest rudely fleeing false I lose my way 
A pilgrim to the next; nor am I free 
To flee the next, lest lost in this, my day 
Become distraught in trend, and meaningless. 

The soul that takes but little pains, and wails 
In sad complaint in doing deeds that bless, 

Plays out a lamentable role, and fails 
Of noble destiny. 


The spirit sweet, 

In which the liberal deed is done, the kind, 

The tender heart, gives swift and nimble feet 
To nimble thoughts that speed the world to find 
The best and purest for our hungering lives. 

The dreamy state of other-worldliness 
Disdains the present world; the slight connives 
With hurt to things that make for blessedness. 


154 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The arrogant and pompous superman 
Is wont to flinch and fail in virile strife; 

Equipment for the spirit-artizan 

Includes the culture of the pruning knife. 

To cease to grow advances hurried death, 
Complacent satisfaction’s idle rest 

Accelerates the ill of failing breath, 

And robs the soul of virtue’s healthy zest. 

On virile forthreach of desire depends 

Esteemed material wealth on which we fawn, 

The moral worth of striving well transcends 
The crystal state of ripe perfection won. 

The grace of soul that’s merely statuesque 
Is but perfection sapless, gone to seed; 

The blooming beauty now is but burlesque, 

A crystal form, and dead as faded weed. 

The goal of grace is dim to human reach; 
Prolonged pursuit in quest of fleeing good, 

Of the unreachable, protracts the breach 

’Twixt wish, and the far-distant worth that’s 
wooed. 

The priceless value of a process deep, 

Enhanced by ethic purpose of the will, 

To action stirs, inspires the soul to leap 
Uncertain of its goal, to reach some hill 

Of mounting good in mist-enshrouded realms. 
Audacious paradox, aspiring life, 

That prosecutes an endless end, o’erwhelms 
Its aspiration in defeat and strife! 

To see the things that are invisible 

We close our eyes to contradictions deep; 

The unison of fugue inaudible 

Resounds while our ungrasping senses sleep. 


THE QUEST OF THE GOOD 155 

Bedimmed we soar and swerve with mirth and 
moan, 

And circling move toward some central sun, 
Which sun itself glides into realms unknown, 
Unreached by reason’s guiding thread, unwon 
By aspiration’s voyage in the sky; 

Into a vague and semi-dubious realm 
We soar in spheres wh^re is no by-and-by, 

God’s guiding hand still ruling at the helm. 

From this Damascus edge of dizzy dreams, 

Scarce balanced by our fluctuating faith, 

We wing us on our way, recurrent gleams 
Of fluent life, weird pageant phantom wraith. 

We tremble in our helplessness, and shrink 

To tread the mists, to mount the floating cloud. 
Our hesitation on this dubious brink 

Means swift descent into the folding shroud 
Which curtains denser darkness of despair; 

Nothing is motionless; nothing is end; 

With fearful heart paling we gasp for air; 

The meaning of the universe is trend. 

Be brave! this thought is not mere atmosphere 
Of perfumed sentiment. Stagnation dense 
O’ertakes immobile life in brief career; 

Sad dissolution follows indolence. 

God is Himself self-limited; impearled 

In power, He names Himself in future tense; 
To constitute a freely moral world 
He graciously curtails omnipotence. 

Perfection reached, and finished in its form, 

Invites decay. The ripened fruit gives seed, 
Then melts away, becomes the feeding norm 
Of rich recurrent life, of newer deed. 


156 QUEST AND QUERY 

II 

A blithesome bird in swift glad flight 
Flew buoyantly by, and free, 

Its life full-pent in one day bright; 

And what did it say to me? 

“My food for the hour, 

My shelter from shower, 

The cypress branches free:” 

That’s what it said to me. 

The prancing steed sped on the way; 

As far as my eye could see 
I followed the movement fleet and gay; 
And what did it say to me? 

“Life’s strenuous deeds 
The alert world heeds; 

Ever in action be:” 

That’s what it said to me. 

The weary laborer passed me by 
As homeward bent was he; 

I mused his lot with compassionate sigh; 
But what did he say to me? 

“At home babe and wife, 

Sweetest impulse of life, 

Helpful prayer on bended knee:” 

That’s what he said to me. 

The pensive man of reflective air, 

Who promises mysteries’ key, 

Came across my path in this world of care 
And what did he say to me? 

“Hopeful dreams, forsooth, 

And my fleeing youth, 

Will never come back to me:” 

That’s what he said to me. 


THE QUEST OF THE GOOD 


157 


There’s something more in this life we live 
Than a transient path o’er a sea. 

A divine seer came his message to give; 

And what did he say to me? 

“The fleet horse will go, 

And the sweet babe grow; 

There’s a goal in advance,” quoth he: 

That’s what he said to me. 

Ill 

Refining forward movement with uplift, 

And retrogressions wise to readjust, 

Mean not delusive guideless idle drift, 

But lubricated action free from rust. 

Divine improvisations are superb, 

More artful than mere recitative air; 

Creation does not weaken or disturb 

God’s harmony of purpose, much more rare 
Than copy’s mimic mechanique. God’s mind 
Is free, constructive His creative sense; 

No sketch by square and compass ill defined 
May occupy His mind in weak pretense. 

To growing mind the good is transient guest, 

And not a veteran host. To-morrow’s good 
Is better, and still dreams of future best; 

The best will stand where once the better stood. 

There is a goal, not static, but a rest, 

Which serves as starting point for future goals; 
Pursuit of good is one long living quest, 

The supplication of aspiring souls 
Who thirst and drink, and win a finer taste, 

And lisp the name of things that satisfy, 

And then discern, in higher good embraced, 

That ripened satisfactions pale and die. 


158 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The lisping notes of slow intelligence 
Will stammer out the once unspeakable; 

What once was lisped in faltering partial sense, 

Is now spelt out in lines more legible. 

At length the cry is made articulate 

Of want that comes from hidden depths; uprush 
Of the subliminal will find a gate 

To enter into consciousness. No hush 
Restrains, no check debars the thing that’s prized; 

For metamorphosed man the growing good 
Is too elusive to be standardized, 

And strives beyond as soon as understood. 

Man’s thirst for good is never satisfied; 

His good requires a heaven, and nothing less 
Than this have deep prophetic seers espied, 

Whose liberal dream is not an idle guess. 

It is an unplumbed sea on which we sail, 

In which ideals pure will bubble up 
From movements in the deep, and panting, bail 
Earth’s bosom of its breath to fill the cup 
Of noble dreams. 


Our aspiration soars 

From depths below to heights above, whose throbs 
No soporific sedative restores 

To tideless calm. The soul in tremor sobs 
In dreams, and waking, sees with fitful light. 

And yet it sees, despite the earthly gloom 
Whose adumbrating shadows in their flight 

Awake from suns which shall the mists consume. 

Though fallibly the light shine through, yet light 
There is, which shows that distant good exists. 
The moan of the capacity for sight 

Proclaims a vision coming through the mists. 


THE QUEST OF THE GOOD 159 

Progressive good demands a heaven, but not 
A mere elysium of idle rest; 

A heaven that’s found, and lost, and further sought, 
The joy of action making further quest. 

A seer with ancient view went forth to scan 
The world for good. He saw the overt fact, 

The superficial scar on injured man, 

And copious measure of the things he lacked. 

He found the world a rugged world, he found 
The world with faults defective, and with flaws, 

With blemishes engraved, with fetters bound, 
Awry from seeming vagrancy of laws. 

He saw the fault in every leaf when near 
He scanned its anatomic form, and marked 

Its delicate defect: the green with sere 

Was blended, and the form oft rudely forked. 

And just therein he found the faulty view 
Of life, that scans the world to see defect, 

And searches not for what is greatly true, 

And finds his ethic world so sadly wrecked. 

But he who calmly seeks to see things whole 
Will e’er refuse to be a partizan; 

He views the universe to find its soul, 

To grasp the end for which all things began. 

Insensible to sweet suggestiveness 
He sees the simple plain exterior, 

Who sternly would repudiate a guess, 

And glued to earth would spurn the shining star. 

A marriage of the earth and sky excels 
Mere idle goodness in its spinster state 

Of earthly poverty. Ambition swells 

The soul till dream and hale achievement mate. 


160 QUEST AND QUERY 

A noble aspiration lifts the eye 

To see man’s proud prerogatives, and soars 

To reach supreme conditions riding high 

On heavenly clouds. Adown faith’s sunlight 
pours 

Its gold of bullion wealth from which life coins 
Brave beauteous dreams. 

Heroic credence teems 

With potency empowering virile loins 
Of valorous mind to realize the dreams. 

To walk on clouds is ne’er so imbecile 

As life in caves, where nothing may inspire; 

The soaring mind excels the inert will, 

For of the dream is born the rich desire. 

IV 

Of the good I am sharer, 

And my name is Penknife, 

To be good for the bearer 
I facilitate life. 

To create I am able, 

And also destroy, 

For the great man of leisure, 

And the ingenious boy. 

In aid of a Lincoln 
His pencil I point; 

Of stateman’s suggestion 
The heir I am joint. 

For the muse, and for music 
I lend a kind hand, 

Shrill whistle of chestnut 
Obeys my command. 

I am deft as a carver, 

I excel in such art; 

The magazine’s pages 
I cleave wide apart. 


THE QUEST OF THE GOOD 161 


I conduct man to wisdom, 
And open to mind 
The treasures of knowledge, 
Which reading men find. 

I erase remiss error 

To perfect ledger page, 
For the carpenter’s ruling 
His measure I gauge. 

There’s many an indenture 
In which I am smart, 

I serve in the courthouse, 

And cut in the mart. 

As artful utility 

All the world round, 

The exploits of my marvel 
Most briskly abound. 

When tired of toiling 
I clickingly close, 

And recline in some pocket 
Requisitioning repose. 

There is good that’s aesthetic, 
And goodness as grace, 

But I hold cunning riches 
Within my embrace. 

For delectable values 
Which service attends, 
Commend me, the Penknife, 
For practical ends. 

V 

I am servant, good Dinner ; 

With cracker and cheese 
The world’s craving hunger 
I amply appease. 


QUEST AND QUERY 


162 


My chemical virtues 
Constructive by stealth 
Create my companion, 

My sister, Good-Health. 

I am of a good family 

Whose heroes are Strength, 

And Labor, and Vigor, 

And Affluence at length. 

Material values 

Of worth’s estimate, 

Are associate members 
Of my happy estate. 

VI 

Without imagination’s choiceful grace 

Concerting richly all the strange unknown 

With what is manifest, no thought can trace 
The generous meaning of distressful moan, 

The shout of joy, distracting cries, that stir 
To pity, or to praise. To view each part 

Uniquely for itself is sure to blur 

The picture, and to miss creation’s art. 

Familiarity is an offence 

To good; and so is distance an affront; 

Sweet shyness of approach is richer sense 
Than affection of a soul that’s blunt. 

There’s nothing certain but uncertainty, 

Avows the doubting mind; the transient flow 

Of things impermanent leaves nothing free; 
Nothing endures save sounds of stifled woe. 

In this wide world there is no good, no boon, 
That satisfies; to posit human bliss 

Is saddening empty dream. No sooner noon 
Than follows night with cold oblivion’s kiss. 


THE QUEST OF THE GOOD 163 

Yet tremulous grief itself is beautiful, 

And bliss is bliss, though of a moment’s stay; 

The mother’s breast is soft as downy wool 
To dreaming infant on its cosmic way. 

The mournful hours move slowly beat by beat 
Of heart-throbs measuring out their painful 
rhythm; 

Unheeded flow of happy years is fleet, 

Because so bounteous in its cheerful chrism. 

When God came down to earth He came as child 
And grew to majesty; and all things good 

Pursue a path through nature’s teeming wild 
To cultured state that leads through tanglewood. 

VII 

My language is tonal 
With melody’s grace, 

My name is no secret, 

And ancient my race. 

In rhythmical motion 
I play with sound-waves, 

And create the emotion 
My beauty enslaves. 

Of love and of passion 
My instruments sing, 

And the soul’s aspiration 
Sails on delicate wing. 

I breathe in the measures 
Of sweet lullaby, 

In martial air’s courage, 

In bereft maiden’s sigh. 

I’m the language of feeling, 

My quiverings stroll 
Into deepest recesses 
Of the susceptible soul. 


QUEST AND QUERY 

My sacred birthplace 
Is where history nods, 

And the grace of my nurture 
Is the home of the gods. 

VIII 

I am a good Soldier 
Of good and ill fame, 

I police the world’s order 
In efficiency’s name. 

My realm is quick action, 
Though blurred be the aim, 
To make the world better 
Some members I maim. 

If a bad eye offend me, 

I quick pluck it out; 
One-eyed, body politic, 

Than blinded throughout! 

If a hand do me damage, 

I quick cut it off, 

Though pacifists whimper, 

And nincompoops scoff. 

’Tis better men’s soundness 
By force to reclaim, 

Than the whole body suffer 
In Gehenna’s fierce flame. 

For disease that’s infectious 
I handle no cure, 

But excise the bad member 
To make the world pure. 

Sometimes there are evils 
’Twixt which I must choose, 
One interest I foster, 

Another abuse. 


THE QUEST OF THE GOOD 165 

I nourish earth’s goodness 
By choosing the goods, 

Nor cripple my promptness 
By dim likelihoods. 


The world’s conflagrations 
I fiercely deter 
By worldly alliance, 

By brave armiger. 


In curative process 
As surgeon I serve, 

To practice my treatment 
The world must have nerve. 

IX 

In everything there is a good, but in 
Its meshes twine the writhing throes 
Of mortal pain, and interloping sin 
With all its twist of agonizing woes. 

Man’s frightened outlook leads to various goals, 
As he combats his foes to find escape 
From wily ills. 

The knell unceasing tolls 
Entombment of the eager hopes that drape 
The form of bright expectancy, as one 
By one the sanguine eras pass and leave 
Their residue of gain inscribed upon 
The gravestones of the years. 

Man’s thoughts at eve 
Are sobered, when he scans the worth of day 
And sees but seedlings of continued toil, 

A ceaseless trust, as compensating pay. 

Kind optimism cheers, and weaves a foil 


166 QUEST AND QUERY 

To hold the growing good, while o’er the vale, 

And mountain top, o’er steep, and sinking 
sloughs, 

Ambition travels ever on the trail 
Of fleeing, yet increasing gains. 


With vows 

Correcting errors of the past, hale youth 
At dawn of faith, exhilarating morn, 

Leaps to his task to realize his truth, 

To win the prize for which his will was born. 

Long ages of regression check the speed 
Of life’s millennium, while men discard 
The gain of goodness for the spoils of greed. 

Belating blind contentions oft retard 
The counsels of the wise, and lock the wheels 
Of moral motive, which alone attains 
Propinquity to charms which virtue deals 
To those who falter not to suffer pains. 

Relapses to sad states of barbarism 
E’er follow passion for material gains, 

While baser sentient life denies the schism 
Between what sanctifies, and what profanes, 
Prefers the profanations which debase 
To ethic charms which captivate the soul 
With their simplicity; goes swift apace 
To seek such sweets as filch a heavy toll. 

The worth of man is weighed in terms of pelf, 
And men as labor-herds are organized 
Into machines without regard to higher self; 

And all the multitudes of souls are prized 
As beasts of burden driven to their tasks, 

Such tasks as automatic creatures do 
In answer to external law that masks 
Enfeebled minds. Wealth takes its cue 


THE QUEST OF THE GOOD 167 


From aggrandizing forces which amass 

Insatiate fortunes filched from human lives, 

Or schemes false values, which by far surpass . 
Intrinsic worth, whose gain with fraud connives. 

Collective wealth controls inventive wand, 
Devising mechanisms to perform 
Inerrantly beyond the skill of hand, 

Or nerve fatigue of fabricating arm. 

The agile mind deprived of exercise 
Foregoes expanse and mental opulence, 

Resigns the values it should highly prize, 

And does a menial service cashed in pence. 

We legislate to make men good, with law 
Curtail their normal will; to poverty 
Reduce their state, and add to blot internal flaw; 
And then with organized philanthropy 

We pauperize the teacher and the taught, 

And canonize the man of circumstance, 

Of questioned rank with guilty coinage bought, 
While helpless mangled morals look askance. 

X 

My name is Intention, 

I’m the fruit of the will, 

In slow good endeavor 
I would action instil. 

In life’s occupation 
I would values fulfil, 

Be a worthy producer 
In industry’s mill. 

My sister, good Motive, 

Looks away to the end, 

And to achievement of project 
Makes all factors bend. 


QUEST AND QUERY 


168 


But I, as Intention, 

Am careful of means, 

I consider in purpose 
How each action leans. 

In the path of achievement 
I would virtue befriend, 

And make my successes 

With sweet memories blend. 

My daily endeavor 

Is to do the worthwhile, 

And have my designing 
Exempt from all guile. 

XI 

I am blithe Recreation; 

In labor’s recess 
I regulate leisure 
My culture to bless. 

To my inner selfhood 
I give a fair clue 
By my choice avocation 

When I have nothing to do. 

I would organize freedom, 

The moments I spend, 

Which quicken more culture 
Than toil’s dividend. 

I upbraid the vain idler, 

The workman, or duke, 

Who trapes into vices 
Despite my rebuke. 

The employment of privilege, 
The wise understand, 

Leads to higher achievement 
Than heed to command. 


THE QUEST OF THE GOOD 169 


XII 

I now introduce you 
To Myself, the good Man, 
Whose selfhood embodies 
All values that span 

The recessive aeons, 

And what lies behind, 

For his body is of matter, 

And his thought is of mind. 

He owns the good will, 
Which alone is called good, 
And his the idea 
Of God’s likelihood. 

His is the aesthetic, 

The emotion’s deft throb, 
The life that’s self-conscious 
In bliss, or in sob. 

He revels in music, 

In luxuriant art, 

Of ideals of being 
Himself is the heart. 

The mere realm of rightness 
Is accordance to rule, 

What excels is of freedom’s 
More cultural school. 

My good is exponent 

Of my soul’s good health, 

In my will dwell the values 
Of life’s real wealth. 

In moral negation 

I am not just good-less, 
Against nonchalance 

I oppose my soul’s stress. 


170 


QUEST AND QUERY 


No attitude neutral 
My soul may sustain, 

There is no good-for-nothing, 

Good is only of gain. 

Good dinner, good music, 

Such goods I commend, 

The things that assist 
To a desirable end. 

The goal is true manhood, 

Life’s personal good, 

The will that achieves 

Both the would and the should. 

The delectable product 
Is the selfness complete, 

Where otherness mingles, 

And love has its seat. 

My name is Sir Goodness, 

The essence of Good, 

Myself the exponent 
Of true brotherhood. 

XIII 

Man’s vision oft is superficial sight 

Of great achievements wrought by magic force, 
Which swims the sea by speedful turbine might, 
Or wings above the clouds aerial course 
By playing with the laws of gravity. 

Slyly to coax in coils electric thrill, 

Which gleams, and warms, and tugs, with suavity, 
Prompts leisured man in haughty ease to still 
The call to healthful manly exercise. 

Magnificence of circumstance but dulls 
The keenness of stout intellect, defies 
The virile ethic excellence which culls 
True values for the soul. 


THE QUEST OF THE GOOD 171 


The city grows 

Into a herded throng of weary slaves 
To fabricate supplies for bauble shows; 

While whirling commerce reels and wildly raves 
To satisfy insatiate greed, to quench 

A fevered thirst that burns more fiercely by 
The draught it gulps. 

This greed, not to retrench 
Voracity, but widely amplify, 

Explains its rage as civilizing grace. 

And life depressed, made base in all its forms, 

A social mass, a semi-barbarous race, 

Depraved in will, outraging nature’s norms, 
Becomes a prey to rival hordes, which hurl 
Their savage selfishness into the scene. 

Into this baleful detrimental whirl 
Nature inserts restorative routine, 

And forces life to pristine simpleness. 

The grasses grow where urban feet once trod, 
And plaintive bleats of wandering sheep express 
A life coincident with nature’s God. 


The haughty splendor of the idle rich, 

And faulted vigor of the beggared poor, 
Dump duty into desperation’s ditch, 

And sweep life’s current into desert moor. 


From simple life of helpful husbandman, 

Of roving shepherd on the quiet hill, 

Man makes descent to toiling artizan 

’Mid whirring wheels in manufacturing mill. 


From haughty insolence of monied pride, 
And aristocracy of intellect, 

The lavish luxury, the pompous stride, 
The empty certainty of austere sect, 


172 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Nature dissolves the artificial life 
To forms reverting to plain denizen 

By automatic sure internal strife; 

For nature is God’s speech to erring men. 

True health and wealth lie close to nature’s breast, 
And good is chained to sweet simplicity; 

The links have stood full many an urgent test, 
And still withstand the strain of subtlety. 

The forest, stream, fresh air, and fertile sod, 
Conserve the good, erstwhile a futile quest; 

For life returns to nature and to God, 

And finds therein its calm consoling rest. 

XIV 

God give us life 
Incarnately to think His thought, 

Serenely to subdue the strife, 

Contending powers have blindly wrought. 

God give us peace, 

A heavenly gift so rich imbued 
With gentle calm that cannot cease, 

Though wild disturbing ills intrude. 

God give us grace 
To be embodiments of dreams, 

Of pure ideals that efface 
The excellence which only seems. 

God give us rest 
Akin to bliss so full and free, 

The self-content within the breast 
Where gladness reigns ineffably. 

All natural things 
Are good within their normal state, 

Life’s harmony in concrete sings 
Where royal mind and matter mate, 


THE QUEST OF THE GOOD 


Where senses feel 
The vital thrill of bodily health, 

And manly morals fairly deal 
In well acquired earthly wealth. 

Excess dispels 

Contented human consciousness; 

Deep satisfaction stably dwells 
Where reason rules the more or less. 

God give us faith, 

That we urbanely may believe 
There is a God, and no mere wraith, 
With which we trusted values weave. 

God give us hope, 

That faith may have full panoply, 
Supplanting sentiments that grope 
In faint attempts a goal to see. 

God give us love, 

The greatest product of earth’s good, 
Though be no rest for weary dove, 
And man’s dim life misunderstood. 


CANTO IX 


THE QUEST OF THE BEAUTIFUL 

I 

Across the landscape flows the winding brook 
Indenting with expression nature’s face. 

The gnarled tree, the meadow, and the nook, 
With sunshine and with shadow interlace 
To weave the scenes of beauty which delight 
The eye, and charm our craving fantasy. 

The human face, whose lines of thought invite 
Our soul to gaze, and charm the devotee 
Of virile strength, bears cultured marks of time. 

The tear-brook, and the lips where quiet pain 
Has made impress of tenderness sublime, 

Express what only sentient souls attain. 

One sympathetic strain thrills all the world, 

Our lives are blended with the verdant leaf, 
And with the sere, so faded out and curled. 

Well bound within the garnered golden sheaf 
Is found the fruit of darksome rainy day 
As well as sunny hours. 

The shades of night 
May sob their echoes till the morning grey 
Proclaims the dawn, but then chivalric light 
By crimson rays transmutes to rainbow hues 
The dewy tears of night’s depressing gloom; 

For swiftly on the trail sweet joy pursues 

Our weeping grief, whence dew-bathed virtues 
bloom. 


174 


THE QUEST OF THE BEAUTIFUL 175 

Our souls rest dull and dormant until strife 
Bestirs our sleeping powers. We slowly wake 

To crave the values of the fuller life, 

Whence beauty springs. The lonely heart’s sad 
ache, 

The mental pain, the anguish of forsaken hope, 
Are foils imprisoning selected boons, 

Which yield to valiant souls that bravely cope 
With life’s impediments. The rough cocoons 

Of creeping things at length send forth the wings 
Of life regenerate. We rise through pain, 

The watchful monitor, that prods and stings, 
Until our life flows strong in healthy vein. 

Not all of life is sunshine and soft glow 
Of tints in iridescent play of light; 

The stifled sob of pain, deep thunders low, 

Intone the darksome sky through timorous night. 

The smothered sighs of far-receding hope 
Immersed in tears of disappointment keen, 

Distress the dusk through which we blindly grope 
To find the realm where ecstasies convene. 

Emotional storms of rude, or rapt renown, 

In swirling frenzy sweep across the soul, 

And dashing in tornadic passion down 

Upon life’s stage, play out some signal role. 

December’s menaced day of lurid dusk, 

When sunny skies timely retreat, obscured 

By oceans of earth’s cloudland tears, the brusque 
Expression of life’s benefits immured 

In nature’s grim disquietude, exclaims 
In accents strong a beauty of its own. 

The sobbing winds and weeping trees, the dames 
Of nature’s austere discipline, the moan 


176 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Of life articulating forest gloom, 

Inject, meantime, beatitudes too much 
Repelled. O’erwhelming clouds oft feigning doom, 
Life’s filmy foster fairies, whose fine touch 
The parched and aching earth so gently soothes, 
Too heavy with their tearful burden, break 
Apart, and through the rift glide sunlit truths 
With messages of grace, which lull the ache 
That gravely schools. 

The sunbeams crown the trees 
With gold, and courteous branches all alert 
Urbanely bow obeisance to the breeze, 

While blushing clouds their blameless love assert. 

Thus gently soothes the eventide of grief 

The golden sky, which oft preludes the night; 
Sublimely beautiful the sound belief 

Averred, “At evening time it shall be light.” 

Through mirth and moan, and untold pressing 
pains, 

The soul prepares ascension robes, and soars 
To higher realms where sweet concordance reigns, 
Where heaven convenes, and sets ajar her doors. 

Space is life’s sphere where galaxies acquaint 

Their charms, the playground of life’s energies, 
Where adolescent sunsets blush, and paint 
Their splendors on the tapestries 
Of worlds; while time, the measured symphony 
Of consciousness, concerts the winsome scene, 
And weaves the measured parts in poesy, 

Where nature’s brilliant attributes convene. 

The facile forms which build the beautiful 
Awake to realness in agile souls 
Susceptive to the exquisitely worshipful, 

In souls that crown life’s worth with amreolcs. 


THE QUEST OF THE BEAUTIFUL 177 

Fair beauty’s born, and has adorning dress, 

In sentient souls, whose fertile mental mould 
Gives graceful fashion to rich consciousness 
Of fertile things, which sensing minds enfold. 

The world of changing scenes which we behold 
Is filled with vocables, responsive things, 

Whose sumptuous streams of energy untold, 
Appearances propelled by brilliant wings, 

Are sweet accomplices of souls that grasp 
And mould the fleeting forms. Fecundity 
Of worlds apart from mind holds in its clasp 
But opportunity for souls to see. 

Life’s deferential otherness provides 
Palpable food for mental imagery; 

In thought deft amplitude of form resides, 

And mind bears beauty as its progeny. 

The souls that see, are souls that greatly be, 

Aptly susceptible to secret things, 

To faint shy whispers from divinity, 

To lisp of beauty which so softly sings. 

II 

The murky air reports the year almost 

Consumed; the flame spreads luridly from leaf 
To leaf. The bare gaunt tree, as finger post, 
Tells of the march of time, unheeded thief, 

Who leaves bold tracks on nature’s florid face, 

So soon to pale by blight of whitening frost. 
How swiftly runs the year its fleeting chase 

Through dew-bathed glens of summer joys, then 
lost 

In tanglewood of teeming life so steeped 

In passion’s burning flame, which soon consumes, 
And leaves but costly ashes sadly reaped 
As residue of onetime fragrant blooms. 


178 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The agile step of ardent youth along 
The mossy path bedecked with violets, 

So soon resounds amid the rustling throng 
Of fallen leaves, the cadence of regrets. 

The golden light of day shed largely round 
O’er summer’s landscape now in haste curtails 
The hurried autumn hours. 

The sun is found 

Soon sinking in the mist that dimly veils 
The distant wooded mountain range, then glides 
Into some shrouded hinterland, but leaves 
A blushing sky, last kissed as he divides 

His love ’mong clouds, while still to earth he 
cleaves 

In fascinating flash of forest flame. 

Athletic rays that laugh their strength to earth, 
In gallantry conduct the cosmic game, 

And to the beautiful give timely birth. 

Ill 

The autumn winds in secret born 

Go whistling through the tanglewood, 

Make gleeful sport of tasseled corn, 

And shocks of wheat in tattered hood. 

The trembling leaves faded and curled, 

Make faint resistance to the gale, 

And from their waving hangars hurled 
Make covert for the wandering quail, 

Or wildly into hillocks blown 
By merry twirling tempest-fray, 

Form monuments o’er vanquished fern, 

Which struggle in the sportive play. 

Delaying migratory flight, 

The blackbirds congregate, meanwhile, 
Disputing domicile at night, 

By day, the claims of rank and file. 


THE QUEST OF THE BEAUTIFUL 

Disquieted by alien sound, 

They shriek their startling shrill alarms, 
Pipe seedling problems quite profound, 

And requiem to summer’s charms. 

By brushheap’s shade the timid hare 
Hears soughing winds, and leaps away; 
And stalking forth from elfic lair 

Strange ghosts indwell the evening grey. 

Where tranquil nature lures to sleep, 

In plaintive notes the turtle dove, 
Ventriloquist of sounds that weep, 

Cooes mournful call to absent love. 

The hornet tarries at the door 

Of sphere-built home in bushes dense, 
Low-built anent the thicket’s floor, 

Portent of winter’s violence. 

The insects search for sheltering nooks, 
And chrysalis the crevice seals, 

While spying ’round, the trickster rooks 
Know well what follows summer’s heels. 

The cricket chirps its minstrelsy, 

And badinage of katydids 
Resounds with caustic repartee, 

Assertive quoths, and saucy quids. 

The hollow tree is filled with nuts, 
Cold-storage den of prudent squirrel, 

His treasure-store soundly abuts 
The desert realm of winter churl. 

A floating cloud casts dark grimace 
Of sailing shadow ’cross the field, 

With footless swiftness seems to chase 
The lazy light o’er open weald, 

Till sportful sun swiftly unlocks, 

Beyond the cloud’s dark parapets, 


179 


i8o QUEST AND QUERY 

His armory of arrow-flocks, 

His ether-piercing bayonets. 

The creek along its rambling course 
Like silver cord the landscape binds, 

And bubbling spring from hidden source 
Its thread around the meadow winds. 

Like anatomic buccaneers, 

Forests, diaphanous and bold, 

Seem skeletons of yesteryear’s 
Impenetrable forest-fold. 

Eccentric strains sound from the dale, 

Of ballad winds weirdly unclear, 

Like captivating chanted tale 
Of amorous strolling gondolier. 

The soughing sound of wind’s heartache 
Essays by measures that endear, 

With sighing serenade, to wake 

The dream-smile of the sleeping year. 

The murky air, the breath that teems 
With fairy-lisping elements, 

Becomes the atmosphere of dreams, 

Where fancy has her residence. 

The craggy rocks in contour dim, 

With lichens brown, and moss o’erhung, 
Appear like spirits wandering grim 
From shadow-lands of silent tongue. 

The sun descending casts a spray 
Of mellow light like sheen of gold; 

The slumbrous hours that follow day 
In somnolence all things enfold. 

The year approaches to its close, 

The pulse of nature flutters low, 

The tide of life that grandly rose, 

Now ebbs in dreamy outward flow. 


THE QUEST OF THE BEAUTIFUL 181 


Sepulchral mounds hold residue 
Of things that live, and go to sleep, 

Brief forms which bid us brisk adieu, 

And go where silent mysteries keep. 

IV 

Life runs in circles, and it is a grace 
To see the whole. Full sensibly to be 

In touch with all that fills God’s ether space 
Brings heaven and earth into sweet unity. 

The ox espies the landscape broad and fair 
In terms of grass and water from the brook; 

His copious brain is not a mental lair 
Of sentiency inspired by artist-look. 

Beauty is evident alone to souls 

Susceptible, and never can be proved. 

Its light effulgent comes from aureoles 
That sparkle from emotions deftly moved 

Within the sensing soul. The attitude 
Assumed toward the radiant lines of light 

Adjusts the faculty that sees things rude, 

Or makes them exquisite to cultured sight. 

Mere vision’s not artistic sight, nor view 

That penetrates the soul of things, and gives 

Interpretations fair. Not parvenu, 

But color-poet, reads, because he lives 

In harmony of sight and sound and thought, 
That’s rich in sentiment. His eye well trained 

Sees beauty’s grace without its being sought; 
Spontaneously it springs by leaps unstrained. 

All beauty is supernal, dwelling in 

The unity of fertile thought and thing; 

Where values beautiful their life begin, 

Affinities uxorial graces bring. 


182 QUEST AND QUERY 

V 

How facile the scene of the snowflakes’ fall, 
Fleet glimpse of ethereal gesture; 

Majestic the pomp of the spruce tree tall 
Enveloped in snow-woven vesture! 

Fair nature grown weary of workaday hue 
Of midsummer’s verdant mantle, 

Has donned a white robe of crystalline dew 
Befitting a Virgin Vestal. 

Niagara’s plunge is congealed in the flight, 

The mist become ponderal wonder, 

The paralyzed vapor in petrified fright 
Builds bulwark of frozen thunder; 

Stalagmite of beauty, opalescence of pearl, 
Iridescence of glistening splendor, 

The face of ice-mountain full-bearded with curl, 
Invincible polar defender! 

White hillocks crest-curled by wild hurricane 
Have buried the brush in the meadow; 

The cottage so lonely by impassable lane, 

Nestles dim as a snow-hooded shadow. 

The zigzagging drifts by the stake-rider fence, 
Snow-billows of frolicsome tourney, 

Are breastworks of nature’s soft violence 
Athwart winter’s jovial journey. 

It is sentiment’s season, pensive beauty’s domain, 
Where vision finds retinal structure, 

Like the embellishing frost on the window pane 
In its wondrously artful grandeur. 

The soul looks out on delectable charms 
In the snow-clad world majestic, 

Which pictures its thought in immaculate forms, 
In crystals of frozen music. 

VI 

Man calls me fair Beauty, 

Because I am born 


THE QUEST OF THE BEAUTIFUL 

Of the rhythm of nature, 

That scorns the forlorn. 

I bask in the landscape, 

The marvellous norm 
Of harmony’s transport 
In life’s multiform. 

I grace silent statue 
With eloquent speech, 
Superlative language 

Which none may impeach. 

The painting I color 
With structural light, 
According as nature 
Gives lucid insight. 

Inspirited music 

Speaks words that express 
The inexpressible emotions 
That fret in duress. 

The invaluable virtue, 

Earth’s heavenly guest, 

Is the rhythm of morals 
That souls manifest. 

I press my medallion 
On sensitive souls, 

My features are fitting 
Sublime aureoles. 

I’m the fair of the fairest, 

The unforgettable face, 

The enchantingest vision 
That aesthetics can trace. 

Subtle vision incarnate 
Of life’s symmetry, 

To the palace of substance 
I’m the one master-key. 


183 


184 QUEST AND QUERY 

VII 

Clouds soft and filmy veiled the sky 
As the apple blossom shy 
Was kissed by the dew; 

Yes, ’tis true. 

And the bold moon riding high 
With a jocund half-oped eye 
Peeped slyly through, 

Peek-a-boo! 

VIII 

Whose ear is sensitive to voices soft, 

Whose touch is titillation delicate, 

Attains by quest the tranquil princely croft 
Where dwell the graces that are intimate. 

The heart attuned to nature needs love’s call 
To catch the chordal notes of nature’s song; 
Soft-blending hues of culture cover all 

The poet’s mind, and all his concepts throng. 

The poet is twice-born by being made; 

He sees the graces of earth’s symmetry, 

And walks and lives in beauty’s broad arcade; 

By rule of song, and soul for simile, 

He clusters beauty in a lettered frame. 

He feels his poem in the emotional sound, 
And tells the melody with words aflame, 

His picture glows with color softly wound. 

Earth’s beauty grew with ever growing man, 
From star-dust to the lily, sings the seer; 

His soul was made before the song began, 

While ethic sweetness trained the listening ear. 

The valorous deeds of ancient lusty war 
Pass by for milder measures of the knight, 
Who in fine gallantry gives lesser scar 

To character through chivalric sense of right. 


THE QUEST OF THE BEAUTIFUL 185 

The lilts and arts of peace surpass in theme 
Of ethic grace, but fail to thrill stout youth; 

The childhood race delights in things that seem. 

To mind mature the story is uncouth 

Of bloody prowess, and of thrilling might, 

Which hurls aside the sentiments of good 

For stirring deeds of war, which give delight 
To cockered boy who struts with sword of wood. 

Soon beauty finds a herald of the fair 
That’s found in nature’s varied realm, 

The purling stream, the floating cloud in air, 

The line of leaflet, and the stately elm. 

The poet passes through these graded themes 
While passing through his years, till full-mature, 

He clearly sees the noble ethic gleams 
Of truth, whose graces regnantly endure. 

The sun that shines through chinks of rifted cloud 
Pours gold into his soul. The cumulus-foam, 

Or nimbus-bank of darkness, is no shroud 

For ghostly terrors thundering through the dome. 

The dense and darkened woodland in the vale 
Is not the haunt of spectres, nor of elves, 

But coves, where pheasants leave their faintest trail, 
Where chipmunk chirps, ,and loving mystery 
delves. 

The village pageant with its gala scene 

He leaves for forest nook, and catbird’s trill, 

By crooked pathway paved with mosses green 
Along the winsome windings of the rill. 

His eyes are souls to fill the things he views, 

And every object yields artistic pose; 

The beautiful is what the soul subdues, 

The shyest creature well its master knows. 


QUEST AND QUERY 


186 

Whate’er he feels he weaves in poesy 
With mystic sentiment in every touch; 

His soul is author of the potency 

Of charm, which coyest nature yields to such. 

All vibrant nature touches him as friend. 

Into the canyon deep, from lofty hill, 

He sees the gurgling bounding streamlets bend 
Their tortuous way, absorbing every rill. 

With flexures serpentine along the line 

Of least resistance creeps the railway track, 

And rolling wheels of trucks make weary whine 
Up the ascent, while from the puffing stack 
Smoke belches forth, the curling incense cloud 
Of necessary commerce on its way. 

The engine great, with mighty strength endowed, 
Makes ceaseless loud complaint without allay, 
“A heavy load! a heavy load!” 

Without 

A burden or a care, the robin high 
On branch to distant mate makes merry shout, 
“Come hither, birdie, hither birdie, nigh,” 

And off to orchard in the meadow near 

He wings his darting way, and perching, cries, 
“O cherries, cherries, pretty cherries, dear!” 

The sound of every creature neath the skies 
Makes music to the hill and dale; never 
A song but finds a kindred note of joy 
Vibrating in the souls that e’er defer 

To gladsome tones, though symphonies be coy. 

Betimes one sighs o’er human lack of thought 
To grasp what nature wisely penetrates. 

The soulless creature lives things whole, with 
nought 

Of reasoning power. The insect small that dates 
Its life by momentary breath, its place 
Most fully occupies by doing well 
Its little task, and fills its little space 

Without complaint, or sound of parting knell. 


THE QUEST OF THE BEAUTIFUL 187 


IX 

The king of day behind the western hills 

Moves swift his chariot wheels, while yet athwart 
The sky his golden beams he casts like frills 
Upon the vaulted dome. Surpassing art 
The cirrus cloud her beauteous robe unfurls, 

The fleecy pinion of departing day, 

And then in mountainous heaps her mist she hurls, 
And blushing gathers up each lustrous ray. 

When Phoebus bold withdraws his sunny gleams, 
And stars have dropped the curtain of the night, 
Diana lights and sheds her silvery beams 
Aslant the rugged slopes; a mellow light, 

Though not her own, for piteous of the state 
Of earth in darkness left, she gathers fain 
The radiant darts by Phoebus cast, and great 
Her love! she sends them back to earth again. 

The glistening stars that verge night’s sable shade 
Speak of infinity in accents soft, 

While still remoter stars in silence fade, 

And distantly retire. Floating aloft 
In leisured flight the mists drop down their dew, 
And flowerets sweet by gentle zephyrs blown 
Bow low their heads, and drops of silvery hue 
They shed like dust of rainbows glistening 
thrown. 

So placid are the waters of the lake 
That not a ripple mars her bosom clear, 

Save where some falling leaflet seeks to wake 
The surface somnolent. Approaching near 
In stealth the wooded beach extends out wide 
His rugged arms to embrace her bosom fair, 

And peaceful waters slumbering at his side 
In mossy caves are gently pillowed there. 


188 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Along the winding shore the bushes wild 

And tree tops tall, by playful breezes stirred, 
Bow to the lake, whose mirror-surface mild 
Returns the courtesy. And nought is heard 
Save hooting owl, which in the forest deep 
His vigil keeps, and wakes the stilly air; 

Or where some timid hare by sudden leap 

Rustles the leaves when frightened from his lair. 

Dim in the sky the murky mountain stands, 
Intrepid frown upon fair nature’s face, 

Whose wrinkled slopes of thickly bowered lands 
In shadows deep are clothed. In silent grace 
Diana sweeps behind the transient cloud 

And veils her silvery charms, as westward still 
The spirit of the sky in sable shroud 

Bears midnight hour o’er meadow, lake, and hill. 

Through all this wealth of silent beauty sleeps 
The mind of man, save where some flitting dream 
Bestirs his sensibility, and creeps 

Across subliminal planes where drowsy teem 
Susceptive beauty’s beams. Disorder troops 
Through crucial sense of form into the lines 
The conscious soul can sketch, while nature stoops 
To mind, whence beauty builds its mystic shrines. 

Immortal beauty breathes before the deed, 

Or guilty prowess of Damascus blade; 

It antedates, and ever will exceed 

The brilliant blossom cultured by the spade. 
Back of the hand that holds the sturdy hilt, 

And wields the spade, is the conceiving mind, 
Where beauty’s born, and shape of vision built, 
Where all aesthetic strands are deftly twined. 

The ox espies the landscape broad and fair 
In terms of grass and water from the brook; 
His liquid fountain eyes, in mildest stare, 

Have not the sentient grace of artist-look. 


THE QUEST OF THE BEAUTIFUL 


189 


All beauty is supernal, dwelling in 

The unity of fertile thought and thing; 

Where values beautiful their life begin, 
Affinities uxorial graces bring. 

X 

The eye is the artist’s stencil, 

The ear is the harmonist’s fugue, 

The image that ambles the pencil 
Is with the architect in league. 

For color exists for the seer, 

And music requires a soul, 

’Tis the emotional surge of a tear 
That bears limpid art to its goal. 

The statue lies pent in the marble, 
The chisel the finger of God; 

The songster’s enticing warble 
Is mute to emotions that nod. 

In the boulder the statue tarries 

Till a vision gives birth to its form, 

An emotional tendril carries 

The beauteous lines that charm. 

The lover espies the sweet dimple, 

The touch of an angel hand, 

Where the babe so tender and simple 
Conformed to the angel brand. 

Keener eyes of the searcher discover 
The graces of inner art, 

Indentures that furtively hover 
Like dimples in the heart. 

The many are touched on the surface, 
The artist is dimpled within, 

His graces more charming than necklace, 
His pressure to angels’ akin. 


QUEST AND QUERY 


190 


The dimpling dint so angelic 
A province of beauty implies, 

Such exquisite touches a relique 
Of the beautiful in the skies. 

The beauty of earth is a vision, 

The beauty of heaven a dream; 

’Tis only aesthetic decision 

Makes real the values we deem. 

XI 

The landscape is a poem in nature, 

Whose beauties to man’s soul call; 

The statue a poem in marble, 

Adorning the spacious hall; 

The painting a poem in color, 

Intoning the chilly wall; 

The anthem a poem in sound, 

The emotion’s rise and fall; 

But man is a poem in life, 

And God is the life of all. 

XII 

Life’s true dimension has its boundary 
In immortality. Life ever grows 
To richer fuller state. It cannot be 

That he who has communed with God finds pose 
Of calm quietus in nonentity, 

That mind should cease, while matter wings its 

way 

To higher forms to body sentiently 

Superlatives of life born for a day. 

XIII 

My dreamy thoughts are wont to meet 
At even by the sea, 

Where swishing bounding billows beat 
With loved monotony, 


THE QUEST OF THE BEAUTIFUL 191 


Where thoughts grow calm, though waves be wild, 
And surges lull to sleep, 

Where dreams are sweet as to a child, 

And moons caress the deep. 

While far across the unplumbed deep 
Imagination free 

Sees home-bound barques on waves that leap, 

And lave eternity. 


CANTO X 


THE QUEST OF THE TRUE 

I 

Truth is reality, that which abides 

While views dissolve, and faded words are 
changed. 

The real marches on with leisure strides, 

Though facts and explanations grow estranged. 

The noblest life approximates the truth; 

Incarnate moral beauty most reveals 

The true, not full, complete, but in its youth, 
While ethic sweetness to its sequel steals. 

Hope buoys us up, the unspoiled residue 

Of wrecked attempts to reach the superman, 

And posits steps seen only by the view 
Which faith creates to comprehend the plan. 

All truth is relative to growing mind, 

’Tis life that’s truth, life’s not inertia; 

Divine disclosures by degrees unbind 

Man’s soul to nerve a mobile moral law. 

There’s nothing finished but the vast intent, 

The plan stupendous in its leisure deed 

Moves endlessly to its accomplishment; 

By single letters lisping men must read. 

The static cult of creed would muzzle men, 

Since sainted faith would save what’s crystalline. 

In reason’s idleness, with stunted ken, 

Misguided souls suppress the vision seen 
192 


THE QUEST OF THE TRUE 193 


By men who walk with God, and will not stand 
And vaguely gape, and let the vision pass. 

Divines irtipose conventional reprimand, 

And bind contracting blinkers to harass 

The vision of prophetic seers. The pledge 
Of changeless creed, unvarying attitude, 

Becomes the rape of godly privilege 

From those who see, yet shun religious feud. 

So timorous is man’s infant faith to launch 
Out in the deeps of God’s great providence! 

With lips carmine for praise, but lily-blanch 
To lisp an added league to deeper sense 

Of what the Spirit gives of deepening truth, 

Man serves the past with ancient consciousness. 

Meek faith in innocence of timid youth 

Forbears from well-taught province to digress, 

Or stray afar from shore lights clear, 

The sacred statements of foreclosed lore, 

And coasts in safe-plumbed sounds. Bravely to 
steer 

Across God’s broad unbounded seas before 

The Spirit’s driving breath, is greater trust 

Than rest in truths once solved by sacred sevens. 

Sublime the faith spurred on by wander-lust 
That sails by observation of the heavens. 

All times are true transition times; the quake 

That startles men’s dull slumbering minds occurs 

When thought falls far behind, and then must make 
A leap to reach progressive fact, which spurs 

From past to future realms. Forsaken moulds, 
The static idle spheres of dull content, 

The growing truth no longer fits; life folds 
A growing good whose shell is daily rent. 


194 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Adventurous souls wait not till things are proved, 
For things self-evident are wisely rare; 

The mind from lethargy is scarcely moved 
Except by visioned souls who bravely dare. 

The common things of life seem evident, 

Because unquestioned in their wonted rule; 

But simple life with mystery is pent 

For curious minds that summon things to school. 

II 

There is little self-evident 
In commonest things, 

We sanction life’s surface 
Whence apparency springs. 

There is much that we posit 
To satisfy sense 
That is fair supposition, 

Important pretense. 

Prolific for concept 
Is geometry’s base, 

But fertile assumption 
Is the point and the space; 

And the line that is curving, 

But defined to be straight, 

To infinitude’s fancy 
Gives a wide-open gate. 

Unprovable values 
Of structural thought 
Are foils of the reason 
Where reality’s caught. 

By credible crutches 
Is mentality wooed 
On a logical journey 
To infinitude. 


THE QUEST OF THE TRUE 

Man’s ethic has warrant 
As inferentially fine 
As the thought-helping sanction 
Of the point and the line. 

The questioning thinker 
May doubt there’s a good, 

And scout the fair justice 

Of the shall and the should; 

But the deed that is noble 
Can itself well defend, 

And the lovable nestles 
Where dutifuls blend. 

We aim at perfection 
Of life and of deed, 

But fruit in its ripeness 
Is food for the seed. 

The rich consummation 
To which we aspire 
Is the nourishing ration 
Of future desire. 

In life’s fertile progress 
We trace what is true, 

For out of the better 
The best ever grew. 

So we deity posit, 

And perfection adore, 

In the ocean of being 
Dip purposeful oar. 

Ill 

The voice of veiled angels 
Does not always divulge 
Unchangeable tidings 

In which prophets indulge. 


195 


196 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The voice faintly sounding 
To susceptible men 
In tentative staccato 
Speaks briefly again. 

The truth is progressive, 
Changeless robes it evades, 
Into richer revealments 
It gradually shades. 

Still more than their petals 
Are roses so sweet, 

And their delicate fragrance 
With nimblest of feet 

Moves swiftly to fashion 
Fair sentiment’s form, 
While material texture 
Disappears in the storm. 

The embroidery of beauty 
Is a terrestrial grace; 

A kind disposition 

Has oft furrowed face. 

Into beauty of spirit 

Would the temporal stray, 
That the truth may outlinger 
The ephemeral day. 

In all of time’s changes 
There is life immanent, 
Some influence follows 
Life’s every event. 

The form that is nomad 
Has its loveliness too, 

But the innermost lovely 
Is the abidingly true. 

The body grows weary 
And suffers decay, 

Fatigued in the journey, 

Falls out by the way; 


THE QUEST OF THE TRUE 

But there’s something that’s vital 
That notes the fatigue, 

A background that’s steadfast 
In life’s whirligig. 

The ambiguous transient 
That plays with suspense, 

Is a phase of the constant 
In bold evidence. 

There’s existence that’s fleeting, 

As an emotional glance, 

And existence that’s lasting 
In the soul’s consonance. 

IV 

’Twixt knowledge clear and ignorance 
Misgiving has its troubled home, 

Whence doubts, with fickle utterance, 
Throughout Cimmerian regions roam. 

If doubt be morning twilight dim, 

’Tis not a base, a damning doubt; 

’Tis light soft-gliding on the rim 
Of circling darkness fading out. 

A generous insight fresh and clear 
Into life’s problems deep and sane, 

Man’s candid doubt can never blear, 
Nor make researching thoughts profane. 

The soul that basks in moral shams, 

To mental truth gives bold offense, 

Deceives mendaciously, and damns 
Itself with crisp intelligence. 

God thinks by acts, and acts divine 
Are thoughts made visible and plain; 

His thoughts and actions intertwine, 

His deeds His purposes explain. 


197 


198 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Matter is spirit manifest, 

An unsolved mystery profound, 

The human mind is prone to test, 

And faith to doubt will oft rebound. 

Our intuition hurries on 

While intellect with cautious tread 
Suspects the trail like simpleton, 

And fears its senses are misled. 

The swiftest feet may reach the door, 
Then stop to have the steps confirmed, 
The plodder passes to explore 
With satisfactions simply termed. 

Man’s intuition is a gift, 

A knowledge born of inner life, 

’Tis innate truth that serves to lift 
The soul above the critic’s strife. 

Man’s intellect owns truth acquired, 

A knowledge of mere matter’s form, 
A frame with syllogisms attired 

To which all movements must conform. 

The lily does not puzzle how 

Its fragrance comes and fills the air, 
But its Creator’s hands endow 
The fragile gifts with sumptuous care. 

Life’s dainty forms, her color strand, 

So transient and so sensitive, 

Are measured by a Master’s hand 
Whose knowledge is intuitive. 

God does not plan, nor execute, 

Nor fabricate with learned skill, 

’Tis not His conscious attribute 
To grind a universal mill. 


THE QUEST OF THE TRUE 199 


V 

God’s ether paths are traceless to our doubt, 

By faith we track His glory flashed from spheres; 

His footprints dint the sky by clouds about 
His feet, His impress on earth’s mist of tears. 

’Tis hard to leave this earth of clay to soar 
By faith on wings to realms afar, unknown; 

Content, we dream, and knock at dogma’s door, 

To solve the rising doubts our wills bemoan. 

An alien will is this. We think we know. 

In terms of thought in ancient form revealed 

Interpretations bandy to and fro, 

Yet in them all enigmas rest concealed. 

We cannot sink ourselves into the past, 

The retrogression finds us in a sphere perplexed; 

The figures of our present thought are cast 

In moulds which leave the old obscure and vexed. 

We cannot think in ancient forms, nor breathe 
In ancient air. Confused we suffocate 

In subtleties of slippery terms that seethe 
With casuistry’s efforts to restate. 

In this pretentious age heroic man 

Is he, who says in truth, “I do not know.” 

He speaks without bold boast, or dreaded ban, 

His arrow hits the mark from measured bow. 

Humility, when self-professed, has fled; 

But tarries in the soul of modest man, 

Who knows avowedly when all is said, 

Who leads with sturdy strides the truthful van. 

The soul that suffers thirsty vanity. 

To dominate the passion of the mind, 

And panting for distinction, says, “I see 
And solve the mysteries opaque, which blind 


200 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The common man,” in tottering constancy 

Of moral worth through greed of notice wide, 
Bedims the sense of mental modesty; 

The saddest state’s delusion deified. 

With sycophancy base the cunning rogue, 

Or self-sophisticated orator, 

Proclaims the fluent wisdom that’s in vogue, 
Acclaims himself prophetic counsellor. 

Half-truths he knows, half-falsehoods base he winks 
Away by quoting sagely so and so. 

Pragmatic fact and ethic worth he blinks, 

And proudly plows the field where follies grow. 

Vivacious humor nimbly makes defense 
Of truth and righteousness. It may assail 
With laughter, or with flash of eloquence, 

To curb man’s folly, and his vice impale. 

For laughter is corrective of our faults, 

Though painful the impression on the heart 
That’s brought to feel the stinging shrewd assaults, 
Which pierce, and plant the truth by painful 
dart. 

An element of playful spitefulness 

And frolic mischief lurks in laughter’s glee, 

For laughter is adjacent to unkindliness, 

And lacks in mollifying sympathy. 

Because we love, we punish, and we laugh 
To check earth’s follies, and substantiate 
The realm of stable truth. The fluttering chaff, 
Facetious in its prowess, lacks in weight. 

Our virtues border on our faults, and ’twixt 
Extremes precision halts, and would discard 
Hyperboles, where truth and error mixed 
Sophisticate man’s swollen self-regard. 


THE QUEST OF THE TRUE 201 


VI 

To know life’s meaning and mystery 
We must be born and live, 

And to prove our immortality 
Only death the truth can give. 

By ethical penetration’s skill 
Man pierces the misty air, 

By luminous cultured moral will 
He ascends by golden stair. 

The pulsing of God in the soul of man 
Articulates vital truth, 

The life that expands to the temple plan 
First dwells in a rustic booth. 

In the refined religious consciousness 
Susceptible forces dwell, 

For God designed through the cosmic stress 
That the soul be a vital cell. 

A pervading immanence never blind 
Evolves a progressive plan, 

As unfolding truths of moral kind 
Well up in the soul of man. 

Divinely susceptive where all is still 
God minutes a consciousness, 

In man’s quickened soul wakes an ethical thrill 
Through the pangs of Gethsemane’s press. 

Man’s harassing gift has a divine pedigree, 

A conscience that lists to faint cries, 

Low whispers that echo on endlessly, 

Or merge into succorless sighs. 

The voice that walked in the garden fair 
Walked into the soul of man, 

And there in that sensitive vibrant air 
The echoes of conscience began. 


202 


QUEST AND QUERY 


VII 

The quest of truth must wisely comprehend 
The realm of right. We’re sanctified alone 
By moral truth; the better truth will tend 
To dignify the mind, and to dethrone 
The forces that dissuade the rule of right. 

’Tis well to be unlearned in things that hate 
The loveliness of light. 


From bitter night 

Let sweetness dawn, let stars ope wide the gate 
To souls that search for issues which result 
In blessedness. 


The facts of life are dark 
Alone to soul opaque. Truth’s not occult; 

The listening ear shall hear the morning lark. 

Cold dogma hardens fluent life, but truth, 
Pathetic vague intangibility, 

That dwells in souls adjoined to things, forsooth, 
Would rest in shy invisibility. 

No haughty terms may even intimate 

That which instinctively the soul can touch; 
The poet traces lines most intricate, 

Which logic circumscribes on limping crutch. 

The echoes of the heart’s faint cry for light 
Beat on the air of dark infinity, 

And through the anguished gloom of lengthened 
night 

The faintest cry breathes life’s sublimity. 

Truth ultimate is life that’s ultimate, 

In which all transient truth shall find an end; 
One Life alone possesses truth’s estate, 

To which all eager aspirations tend. 


THE QUEST OF THE TRUE 203 

Thou God of Truth! O give us grace to bear 
The loud acclaim of faults we would conceal, 

But which our life is certain to declare 

Of cherished blemishes, which truth would heal. 

And let Thy truth annul the critic’s word unfair, 
The careless jest, the studied slight of those 

Whose cruel touch of pain seeks to impair 
Our peace of soul, and turn our weal to woes. 

Impart to us the equipose of strength, 

That finds true balance by each proving test, 

That never fails in proofs at any length, 

Assured that truth will find its stable rest. 

Thou God of Life! O give us visions true 
Of that pure life whose luring perfectness 

Accepts no semblance faint, but would imbue 
With power the aspiring souls that upward press. 

Spirit of Truth, Thou Source of Life, indent 
Thy pure ideal on our loftiest plan; 

Construct our life, whose vital forces pent, 
Would realize the type of nobler man. 

VIII 

We are truly sweet roses 
Of beauteous hue, 

And as true is our fragrance 
In the morning dew. 

And true is the tempest, 

The violent storm, 

That threshes our petals, 

And ruins our form. 

The glistening dewdrop 
Is part of the storm, 

That scatters our beauty 
With rude sturdy arm. 


204 


QUEST AND QUERY 


There are things that are real 
As the ruthless truth, 

That paints us in frankness 
And plunders our youth. 

There is truth that is fragrant 
As the delicate rose, 

And verity vagrant 

That plots with our foes. 

There is truth as a pillar, 

And truth as a club, 

And deity kindly, 

And base beelzebub. 

There is truth that is value, 

And truth that is nil, 

A matter of record, 

Or a fact of good will. 

IX 

The unbeguiled as little child 
Life’s simple trail may trace; 

It takes keen mind deftly to find 
How thought and thing embrace, 

How earthy man found thread to span 
Tremor and consciousness, 

To be aware of food and air, 
Environment’s caress. 

The sun’s strong beat of radiant heat 
Pervades the insensate stone, 

Which never feels the warmth that steals 
Throughout its senseless zone; 

But simply is, knows not ’tis his 
The wave of fervidness; 

Reflective trait of life innate 
But pensive souls possess. 


THE QUEST OF THE TRUE 205 

Where senses feel emotions’ reel, 

And mind begins to bloom, 

There feelings grow till thoughts bestow 
The threads of reason’s loom. 

While thought pursues life’s changing views, 
Interpretations wake 

A clearer tone from reason’s throne, 

Of deeper truth partake. 

Ideas chaste win finer taste, 

And satisfactions flee, 

While hunger trails through tortuous vales 
Some truth of high degree. 

Truth’s key unlocks to eager knocks, 

Admits through doors that swing, 

To close the past, and give forecast, 

While truth keeps on the wing. 

By spiral flight to infinite height 
The soul pursues the dawn, 

The quest of the true finds clearer view 
As the soul goes on and on. 

The quest will pause when infinite cause 
Completes eternity; 

The end is occult, but entails result 
In ceaseless fecundity. 

By Milky Way evolving day 
The silent aeons trod, 

By blueprint high in starry sky 
Man trails the thoughts of God. 

By words abstruse the tragic muse 
Unwinds a mystic skein, 

Whose threads, made red while ages bled, 

The wizard worlds enchain. 


2o6 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Shall crimson dice of sacrifice 
Hurled in the sky so blue, 

Show blessed life, and tragic strife, 

And everything thats true, 

Move on the way to fuller day, 

And compensate the price 

Of pale-faced truth in ardent youth 
Bled white by sacrifice? 

Shall the unknown by aeons blown, 

With clarity precise, 

Loose clutch that holds life’s pregnant folds, 
Relax Cimmerian vise? 

If thinking soul be suffering’s goal, 

Then life is highest truth, 

Whose dim birthright involved in night 
Inherits naught uncouth. 

For everything n\ust pass through spring 
To reach its summer goal, 

And human life with virtues rife 
Portends a greater soul. 

’Tis human mind of suffering kind 
That grasps the truth of things, 

And lacy thought by spirit wrought 
Forever spins its wings. 


CANTO XI 


IN QUEST OF SELF 

I 

The sun is mellow, and the year is old, 

The tree has lost its tresses. Leaf by leaf 
Sered foliage loosely flutters to the ground 
And deftly hides the beaten path, until 
Uncertain of its way the wandering mind 
Is lost in dreams. 

The backward surge of thoughts 
Drifts into childhood’s realm, where mother’s kiss 
Claims first its prize ere red-cheeked apple fills 
The baby hands. 


The curious infant’s grasp 
Of things is immature; a little orb 
Can fill the baby soul, and satisfy 
Its dreams of joy. 

But soon ambition’s grasp 
Embraces vaster worlds, when childhoo 4 passed, 
The growing life awakes to luring calls 
In valorous dreams which urge to lofty realms. 

The gallant knight ascends to Alpine heights 
Of fairy land in search of answers great 
To urgent cravings of his visioned soul. 

His sleep is cradled by sweet airy dreams 
So soon dissolved by rising sun into 
The rugged features of a stony world. 

207 * &SSSKM 


208 


QUEST AND QUERY 


His staff and crossbow arm for sturdy strife, 

And as he climbs the steeps and fights his way, 
With body wearied in the fray, he sleeps 
Profounder sleep, and dreams more virile dreams. 

His strenuous struggles with material things 
Slowly resolve into reflections deep, 

To thoughts profounder than his dreams, while 
dreams 

Take model form, and lure to higher goals. 

The striving youth ambitious in his aims 
Unconsciously reveals a cold disdain 
For pain and wounds, and such as limp along 
The rugged road. 


Romantic in his dreams, 
He caps the summits of his mountain goal 
With frosted beauty under cloudless sun, 

In atmosphere of elevated mien 

Where fairy feet alone may safely tread. 

The chilly clime keeps ardent dreams congealed, 
Nor melts the frigid mantle of his young, 
But ample confidence. 


But sometime prone 
Upon a plain, felled by the silken cords 
In which his astral movements are enmeshed, 
A sympathy is born of moral bruise 
And baffled will. 


Content to gaze aloft 

At crystal heights, his feet, more stable, plod 
A real road, where common fact with toil 
Fills up the measure of laborious days. 

A sky of cloudless azure blue gives fair 
And unimpeded course to rays of heat 
That stream in undulating waves upon 

Life’s common plain. No zephyr stirs a leaf, 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


209 


Nor bird dares venture from its leafy lair 
To brave the arrows of the sun, but rests 
With wings akimbo and with open beak 
In songless search for breath of cooling air. 

Athwart the path of eager youthfulness 
Agleam with aspiration’s radiance, 

Sometime is thrust a desert of fatigue. 

Achievement carries dust and dreariness 
From the impeded effort of the soul; 

Ceaseless success a doubtful blessing brings. 

Our aspirations change with growing years, 
Maturing mind selects more heedfully 
The things of worth, yet worth itself wisely 
Adapts its values to each age of life. 

The good that fosters youth, itself is young; 

The joyous needs of puerility 
Claim agile virtues of vivacious strain 
To grace the life that’s lithe and juvenile. 

The caution and solicitude of age 
Ne’er furnish requisite experience 
For racy youth, experience which comes 
By blithe adventure with its risk 
And hazardous result. 

The good debris 
Of enterprising failure oft supplies 
Constructive principles of virile life. 

Fair nature stumbles into treasure stores; 

By failure, venture tentative recruits 
The qualities that make for betterment. 

Life’s values evanescent serve each stage 
Of growing man. Surpassing sequels are 
But transient ends, windows with vistas far. 
The rainbow’s base is evermore afar, 


210 


QUEST AND QUERY 


And dim horizon veils the golden goal. 

The garment of ideals grows threadbare, 

And colors fade to sombre hue of fact 

That’s weathered in the sunshine, and the rain. 

The traveller soon requires a weighty rest 
Upon his staff; his crossbow wings the dart 
A shorter space, but measured arrows pierce 
With riper aim, and gather better game. 

The lowland meadows now have charm as fair 
As glittering goal on Alpine peak, since 
Fruits of life allure enticingly in lieu 

Of snow-winged dreams on glistening heights 
which youth 

Pursues with aspiration’s pulsing zeal. 

And while the traveller with his silvery locks 
In meadow mingles with the daisy bloom, 

The reaper strong with sturdy thrust mows down 
Both old and young, and sweeps them into swaths, 
Which garnering angels gather into sheaves. 

II 

The autumn sky is fair to-day, 

The azure, dreamy deep, 

The same that crowned the month of May, 
When blossoms waked from sleep. 

The colors of the clustered blooms 
Of blossoms on the trees 
Fade like the tints of marching plumes, 
Receding by degrees. 

The outer world grows less distinct, 

The days approach life’s inn, 

The mind is with reflection linked, 

The soul retires within. 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


211 


There’s sombre tint with nature’s sheen, 
And earth’s more beautiful 
When golden ripeness mixed with green 
Makes nature bountiful. 

The mind oft wanders up the stream 
Of quiet roaming thought 
Without a bridge to bind the dream 
To real garden plot. 

Yet pleasure decks both sundered shores 
Of earth and paradise; 

’Tis sweet to live while nature pours 
Salubrious supplies 

Of health and wealth, and purpose kind, 
And multiplying friends, 

Who of life’s love will me remind 
Just where the journey ends. 

And just across the parting stream 
A tabernacle stands, 

Where welcome of a Host supreme 
Shall clasp my empty hands. 

Sometime I’ll cross the viaduct 
That spans the severed shores, 

And reach the halls my hands construct, 
With closed or open doors. 

Fair kinsmen and companion souls 
Shall lift the trembling latch, 

While round me gleam the aureoles 
Which to my deeds attach. 

For there the May comes back again, 

The garden plot of dream, 

Where I shall walk with sturdy men 
Who worthiness esteem. 


212 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Where every noble coterie 
That paradise contains 
Is garlanded with ecstasy, 

The robe of moral pains. 

Somewhere, sometime, my eager self 
Shall win its true estate, 

While simple deeds as flitting elf 
Shall open wide the gate. 

For I am just the things expressed 
Which conscious come and go, 

To reach a goal my will has blessed, 
Affirmed as so and so. 

Above, beneath, on every hand, 

Creation forward goes, 

And the Creator is the land 
Whose tenure He bestows. 

Ill 

Some system reigns; man finds within himself 
A sense of unity, how’er confused 
The weird complexities of his vague thought. 

In pensive mood he will impose upon 
The manifoldness of his circumspect 
Experience the unity he finds within 
Himself. ’Tis his philosophy, studied 
Attempt to understand the universe. 

In consciousness he finds his thoughtful self 
A person fair, in clear distinction from 
The objects of his sense experience; 

And this, his felt experience, is part of him, 
Without whose touch he would not be himself. 

Aesthetics is the attitude he takes 

To things, the form he gives to orderly 
Experience. He builds his facile thoughts 
In verbal beauty, sweet expression of 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


213 


The feeling of his soul, pictorial, 

Mayhap, in mural scene, or sculptured art 
Of music petrified. 


Breathless pursuit 
Of the intangible shadows its wings 
Upon the transient beauteous things of time, 

And makes escape impossible. Life fades, 

But carries on to coming souls a dream, 

A message of the deathless beautiful. 

Man’s spirit-life espies its permanence 
Impressed upon the values of the years. 

The world’s no world without him as he stamps 
His soul upon the ages, and engraves 
Immortal epitaphs on spheres that come 
And go. And he, without objective realm, 
Would be but phantom mist, a formless wraith, 

A meaningless pursuit of the might be 
That never is, nor yet in process to 
Become, ideal that is never real, 

But only vagrant thought that idly tramps 
Adown the ages in its tattered coat 
Of particolored dreams, itinerant 

Along the endless path of wandering soul. 

God-filled is every life that’s purposeful, 

That makes for righteousness, and seeks to give 
To yearning earth what’s strong and beautiful. 

All is in God; yet all’s not God, else man 

Would never find himself. Transcendent, yet 
Most immanent, is God; pan-en-theism 
Intently spells the world’s environment. 

God lives in all His work. Calm waiting for 
The truth a revelation will attain; 

A spirit-evolution will bud forth 

In plastic clay of man, within whose soul 
An energizing deity resides, 

Yet ne’er annuls the selfhood of the soul. 


214 


QUEST AND QUERY 


IV 

The world is not undone, 

But staggering to its knees; 

The war-cloud hides the sun, 

The eye of faith still sees. 

A stranger to perplexities 

Who margin gives to mysteries; 

An unseen order deeply rules, 

And through the chaos wisely schools. 

The world is not undone, 

But bending on its knees; 

The goal is almost won, 

The wind is in the trees. 

V 

The outlooks veiled in mist, 

The seer’s at the helm, 

No base antagonist 

The ship can overwhelm. 

The world’s not hastening to its end, 
Great issues distant goals portend. 

The better world is just begun, 

Ideals have their Mizpah won. 

Long ages guard life’s goals, 

The goals themselves dissolve 

And form still larger wholes, 

While ages long revolve. 

VI 

The base e’er loses self, 

The good when sought is found, 

Base gain that lies in pelf 
Its holder will confound. 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


215 


Appalling ruin may crush things, 

Drench earth in blood, dethrone earth’s kings; 
But more appalling, ethic dead! 

The conscience ruined, soul full-bled! 

The base has lost himself 
And never can be found, 

Base gain consists of pelf 
And builds sepulchral mound. 

VII 

The self is found in soul, 

The search leads on to God; 

And greatly won the goal 
By passing neath the rod. 

All good is won by sacrifice, 

And blood the life, the costly price; 

By giving self the self is won, 

The fading star heralds the dawn. 

The world is not undone, 

But mounting on its knees, 

The war-cloud hides the sun, 

The eye of faith still sees. 

VIII 

The past, preceding history, we leave 
To God; the future yet unknown commit 
In trust to Him who has a plan complete 

For his previsioned world. The sad and dim 
“No more,” the bright expectancy, “Not yet,” 
Are two abysses of obscurity. 

Yet somewhere in the living present dwells 
The past, not dead, but giving character 
And tendency to every living thing. 

Into the future man projects his hope, 

The moral lubricant, that speeds the way 
Along the rugged path by friction clogged; 


2l6 


QUEST AND QUERY 


And permeated by the energy 
Of will, unknown to-morrow roseate 
Now cheers to-day by rich expectancy. 

The now is part determined by the past, 

Whose erewhile worth moves forward with its force 
And makes the present an eternal now. 

I would not cage a verbal victory, 

Which is not free, but must be closely kept 
In custody, lest victory escape. 

Time is a circle, and the form of things 
E’er runs its race through life and death along 
A line centripetal. 

The central force 
That draws is equidistant from all time. 

The God of life exists as central point; 

The wide circumference of time sustains 
But one relation to eternity. 

So yesterday moves through to-day, and the 
To-morrow is but yesterday returned. 

And should I fall in faith, I fall to God; 

But should I flee in doubt, in tangent flight, 

A parabolic meteor in quest 

To serve two Gods, the foci of my search 
Make shuttle-cock my endless destiny, 

A sisyphism of timeless misery. 

The clutching babe so thrilled when first it grasps 
The something that is not itself, yet knows 
Not what it is, asserts the great desire 
To realize itself. 


Man would become complete, 
And all that’s not himself is fertile source 
From which to draw his richest sustenance. 

All things are in the making, and when made, 
Dissolve into some other form. All things 
Are shaped in temporals; but back of form 
Flutters the soul, which moves on restive wing. 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


217 


He who began to do and teach never 

Has finished yet. There is no system closed 
To fuller truth, no life fully complete. 

No one his God may circumspectly see 
And live; so God remains invisible; 

For man the quest is valued as the goal. 

IX 

I would review life’s bounteous sphere 
With gladsome free thanksgiving, 

And make my word and deed cohere 
In cheerful true thanks-living. 

I thank my Lord for faithful friends, 
For hearts that ne’er forget me, 

And for my will that gladly sends 
Reciprocals as freely. 

For all the gifts of nature’s wealth 
Poured in my lap so richly, 

For rectitude and moral health, 

Which crown our lives supremely, 

For wings which heavy burdens lift 
And make our spirits braver, 

For these, and every kindred gift, 

I thank God’s loving favor. 

Nor is this all that life may say 
In gratitude’s expression, 

The wide world suffers fleet decay 
Of forms in swift succession. 

To keep the world a civic world 
The thankful must be busy, 

Ere culture be in chaos hurled, 

And pulsing life grow dizzy. 

Thanks-living is constructive life, 
Enlargement of the royal, 

The grace that hushes rival strife 
Makes nations inter-loyal. 


218 


QUEST AND QUERY 


X 

Swiftly for aye have the days sped away, 

And now thou art gone, Old Year. 

The emotion of mirth, and the toil of the day, 
Have made thine apparel so sere. 

Thou wast kindly to me with thy gifts full and free, 
And now thou art gone, Old Year; 

Yet what have I done, or spoken for thee, 

To banish a grief, or a tear! 

I was gay with the gay, and the sad I forgot, 

And responsive with never a touch 
Did I offer some praise to the sturdier lot, 

To the toilers we are debtors so much. 

Lived a heart that did hunger for something from 
me 

To uplift in the careworn day, 

And I turned fleet away without sympathy 
To laugh with the careless and gay? 

May not all of regret be the days I have met, 
And wilt thou the past not forgive? 

The wrongs of my life thou wilt freely forget, 

If I but more worthily live. 

To repent of the wrong, and sing a true song 
To help to the beautiful life, 

To furnish some lift to the burdens that throng, 
To soften the deadening strife, 

’Tis this thou hast taught me, and reflection has 
brought me, 

Farewell, then, prophetic Old Year; 

Thou hast left me the will, and hast furnished a 
key 

To pathways of higher career. 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


219 


At the threshold I stand of the New Year at hand, 
I salute the first glimmering ray; 

I enter with hope the untraversed land 
With its promise of a worthier day. 

XI 

With alert expectation we greet thee, New Year, 
Thou art welcome, so pure and so fair; 

Unsullied thou comest with never a tear, 

But eager thy richest possessions to share. 

And gifts thou wilt give, as capacious we hold, 

Or void of true purpose forbear 

To empty our hearts and our affections unfold, 

To receive the rich tokens of value most rare. 

By self-consecration, by visions of grace, 

That urge aspiration to strive, 

Each day will impart to our eager embrace 
The emulous virtues that in the heart thrive. 

We must give to receive, must disburse to abound, 
For talent and truth we must toil, 

Be willing to dare where e’er danger be found, 
And ne’er from a strenuous task to recoil. 

O give us true purpose, an uplifting aim, 
Attainments surpassing to win! 

Not anxious to bask in the glory of fame, 

But struggle to perfect the spirit within. 

And more noble still, to seek to do good 
To the weary and grief-ladened heart, 

To make the true meaning of life understood, 
Some message of hope, some good impulse impart. 

So simple and plain are the ways we may bless, 

And gladden the care-cumbered soul; 

So touching and helpful the words we address 
To the wayfaring man slowly seeking his goal. 


220 QUEST AND QUERY 

Then welcome, bright dayspring, thou harbinger 
fair, 

We bid opportunity hail! 

To the wisdom of ancients, to their wealth we are 
heir, 

To add to life’s values may our might never fail! 
XII 

The new age comes, yet with the new 
How bold the old age tarries! 

Old dreams, old memories, fresh with dew, 

The radiant daystar carries. 

Night bathes with dew the fading blooms 
That yesterday were fragrant, 

Pale dreams low-bending to their tombs 
Like temporal things so vagrant. 

The untold pangs that pierce and probe, 

At which the soul has wondered, 

And night that girdles all the globe 
Where fitful dreams have blundered, 

Have left the soul abiding bloom 
That will not fade to-morrow, 

Though pathways lead through lowering gloom, 
Where broods a restless sorrow. 

For every night is gemmed with stars, 

Though darksome clouds obscure them, 

And boons survive earth’s cruel wars, 

Though brutal bars immure them. 

The blundering dreams that fill the night 
And at the sun’s rise scatter, 

The visions vague that suffer blight, 

Embody golden matter. 

The youthful year is not all new, 

Though loud the new boots clatter; 

With velvet feet damp with the dew 
The old dreams softly patter. 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


221 


Upon foundations last year laid 
We rear our future building, 

The deeds that gemmed, the virtues staid, 
Apply the fadeless gilding. 

Hail to the year, the new-born year, 
Reared in a Christmas cradle! 

Not all things past that have grown sere 
Express but childish fable. 

The evanescent yesterday 
Left influence eternal, 

With little concrete blocks we play 
And build a house supernal. 

Not all the ghosts of yesteryear 
Are robbed of resurrection; 

Both good and bad, both hope and fear, 
Return by introspection. 

A troop of deeds that trod the past 
Stands waiting at the portal, 

The good deed free, the bad grown fast, 
Beset the man immortal. 

But love still lingers at the door 
And waits for invitation; 

No chivalry of ancient lore 
Offers such pure oblation. 

The opportune’s at springtime sown, 

The harvest comes autumnal; 

Sparse are the fruits in frigid zone, 

Love makes our deeds eternal. 

Through rust and dust of aging years 
Descends love’s golden ladder, 

The rungs concealed in mist of tears 
Make angel visits gladder. 

And up along the Milky Way 

’Mid star-dust dreams still travel, 

Where spindles weave a ribboned ray 
As days their threads unravel. 


222 


QUEST AND QUERY 


XIII 

To reach for God is to approximate 

His being, and His perfectness to share. 

True wholeness, soundness, is man’s aim, that is, 
He would be soul, participant of God; 

To find himself, man seeks the Infinite. 

Self-recognition is a fleeing gift; 

Not self-complete, nor self-explainable, 

His present self is not life’s ultimate, 

Not final goal; and yet to find himself 
Is his pursuit, his life’s ascent expressed. 

Ideal is the infinite expressed 

In man; and yet man’s soul is not a road, 

A public thoroughfare, ’long which the feet 
Of God may tread, nor mere transmissive urn, 

A vehicle of supernormal life. 

Before the door God stands and knocks; His call 
Is audible; companionable too 

His thoughts; and drawn, not driven, man’s 
assent. 

The thought of God should not be lower than 
The best I know. Myself I cannot well 
Transcend, but good and filial in my will 
I walk with God in son’s similitude. 

To know myself, the self must be distinct; 

Simply to posit self merely distinct 
From some external thing, is not to know 
The moral self, divine experience. 

The finite centers of responsive lives 
Are focussed in the moral will of God. 

God is no eremite, no absentee, 

Nor yet some Absolute in distance far, 

And unrelated to His progeny. 

If God creates, He has contact; if He 
Is Love, He so relates Himself to me. 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


223 


I know myself in God, all other self 
Is evanescent form, mere temporal wraith. 

How do I come to be alive, and can 
I ever die? My life inclusive is 

Of God; only in God myself I know. 

Eternity is timelessness, and more, 

’Tis qualitative life, duration of 
The timeless essences and grace of love. 

I shall be neither merged, nor fused, nor yet 
Absorbed into the One; responsive I, 

Not framed to blend, remains the conscious I; 
For love is social, and requires two, 

And man is whole because he is a soul. 

The universe is not just entity, 

But entity in mind. Life is in God, 

And man himself, true man cannot transcend. 

More real than reality no man 
Can ever be, and his perfection but 
Correct adjustment of the inner self 
To its environment, a will untouched 
By envy, and content to be a man, 

And not a god. 

The gracious act of God 
Is not the making of felicity, 

But the making of great souls. Imperfect man 
Conceived his God All-mighty ere he found 
All-goodness the great attribute divine. 

Felicity is the becoming of 

A greater soul. Man lets omnipotence 
Depart to grasp God’s nobler moral will, 

A fuller Personality, a Life 
Of grander worth than fatal concept of 
A Potentate who wields relentlessly, 

Though splendidly, illimitable force. 

Omnipotence as will intractable, 

Is but an alien attribute from which 

There grows the thought of rude necessity. 


224 


QUEST AND QUERY 


And to subdue its stubbornness, and make 
A moral world free from malevolence, 

Man fabricates a “Hidden God,” a screen 
To hide His moral inconsistency. 

If hidden be the moral will of God, 

Then man can never frankly find himself. 

It is the soul that sees, and fabricates 
The beautiful, whose sum is deity. 

God cannot be inferior to man’s 

Best thought, subaltern to man’s noblest self; 
God must be thought in terms that beautify, 

In terms whose halo is pure holy love. 

Through latent ages of evolving mind 
The conscious soul, deistic in its source, 

Spells out the God it feebly comprehends. 

Through man God chronicles His christened Self 
In terms anthropomorphic, yet divine; 

Metempsychosis of fair deity 
Breathes through ascending thoughts of pensive 
man. 

’Tis God and otherness gives birth to love; 

And from this attitude wake sons of God, 

Fair fragments of eternal life, inbreathed 
By patient parenthood’s choice potencies, 

Offspring of God in rich similitude, 

Who coin the values of the current life 
Which flows between two vast eternities. 

To be immortal is to face and brave 
Full consciously eternal otherness. 

Unfathomed human ills entail to men, 

The self’s accelerated feebleness 
Accentuated in the progeny’s 

Unconscious blemishes. The sad descent 
Of the inferior self to mar the form 
Of childhood’s moral possibility, 

Becomes the bitter fruit of parenthood. 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


225 


Perpetual joy, when gifted lineaments 
Of the diviner self leap into life 
As heritage of progeny, a strain 

Of music singing down the avenues 
Of earth’s hereditary flight. 


Age-long 

The echoes fill the aisles of time and swell 
The values of life’s treasured blessedness. 

The soul saintly discerns its higher self 
Expanding to angelic quality, 

An immortality too infinite, 

Too modest to be told. Scarce fainter joy 
To trace the genial influence of the self 
Among the neighboring souls, whose social life, 
Made musical by mystic touch of grace, 
Swells choruses, symphonic sweet refrain, 

Born of one simple dulcet solo life. 

The mere expansion of the earthly self, 

As power projected into fleeting things, 

Ends with the circumstance. 


Aggrandizement, 
Accretion of material property, 

Is evanescent good, mere strategy 

To foil the transient pleasures of the soul. 
The self identified with transiency 
Dissolves together with the incident. 

Events are tools to frame a consequence, 

Mere temporal subterfuge for vital powers 
Which gradually discard the scaffolding. 

The soul whose moral force uplifts the race 
Shares in the essence of divinity, 

Discovers self infused into the reign 
Of righteousness, into the Principle 
Eternal, vital entity of God. 


226 


QUEST AND QUERY 


XIV 

The unexperienced spirit-realm 
Is vague and undefined, 

The cleric pilot at the helm 
In sacred cloud enshrined, 

Repeats the whispers that he hears 
From mists in which he lives, 

To anxiously attentive ears 
He speaks in negatives. 

That life is incorruptible, 

Which dwells in azure blue, 
Environment is never dull, 

Unfaded is the hue. 

The heavenly good is undefiled, 

No tears nor crying there, 

Sweet rest by no fatigue beguiled, 

No screened deceits ensnare. 

With ill-accordant imagery 
The prophets correlate 
Uncertain truths of mystery 
Within the pearly gate. 

The heavenly streets are paved with gold, 
The city hangs in air, 

The walls felicities enfold, 

The city lies four-square. 

For all celestial circumstance 
Ineffable of form, 

For all the soul’s select romance, 

There is no earthly norm. 

And yet some hints insinuate 
A tentative reply, 

Some realness through pearly gate 
Late prophets may espy. 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


227 


The method of evolving life, 

Of conservation’s grace, 

With mystery is ever rife, 

And moves with leisured pace. 

The dawning life of every kind 
Is like an infant’s grasp, 

Perceptive qualities are blind, 

The spirit but a gasp. 

The world’s obliging motherhood 
Provides ascent until 
Simplicities are understood, 

And grow to native skill. 

If death of man be but a birth 
To spirit-realm unseen, 

The full collapse of things of earth 
That briefly stand between 

The man that is, and is to be, 

The soul as babe is laid 
On heaven’s breast and nurturing knee, 
While angel serves as maid. 

The entering soul as man mature, 
Full-schooled in earthly lore, 
Confronts a w T orld to him obscure, 

A realm he must explore. 

All inexperienced he lies 
Before a vast domain, 

His aptitudes are infant’s cries 
For things he would attain. 

Colossal is the realm of souls 
Where infant thoughts begin, 

As child he views the moving goal, 
Though man he enters in. 


228 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The human infant far excels 
All life of lower rate; 

While infantile it never tells 
The worth of its estate. 

The spirit-life to heaven born 
Has mute inheritance, 

The soul has at that early morn 
For earth no utterance. 

A curious fascinating power 
Excites the wondering soul, 

Whose lofty aspirations tower 
Beyond time’s measured scroll. 

In moral wonderment, unbound, 

Man’s thought would wing its way 

Through timeless silences profound 
To reach eternal day. 

XV 

In the pristine country 
In the days gone by, 

When green were the woodlands, 
And bright was the sky, 

Ere smoke from the furnace, 

Or grime from the mine, 

Had withered the verdure 
And famished the kine, 

Timbered hills were the playground 
Of the fox and the hare, 

And birds with gay plumage 
Beat their wings on the air. 

The grass in the meadow 
Still wet with the dew, 

The buttercups yellow 
That gladdened the view, 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


229 


Were soft-yielding carpet 
For the barefoot boy 
Who leaped o’er the clover 
With ingenuous joy. 

When the wood of the chestnut 
Was running with sap, 

And the bark slipped off gently 
By deft artful rap, 

The delight of the whittle 
With a keen penknife 
Brought forth the shrill whistle 
With the tone of the fife. 

Subdued was the Sabbath 
In the staid meetinghouse, 
Where gathered the farmer, 

The children and spouse. 

The red scripture ticket 

Proved attendance at school, 
Though a long sermon followed 
By invariable rule. 

After service they lingered 
In the old graveyard 
To read the inscriptions 
Of some rustic bard, 

Or to place loving tribute 
On a new-made grave, 

And hallow affections 

Which human hearts crave. 

Round the cabinet organ 
In the calm afternoon 
They clustered to practice 
Some Sunday school tune, 

While neighbors assembled 
To talk of the times, 

And the children conned over 
Mother Goose’s quaint rhymes. 


230 


QUEST AND QUERY 


When the summer was over, 
And the harvester’s toil, 

The fruit timely gathered, 

And the gifts of the soil, 

The long winter evening 
Gave half-holiday, 

Offsetting long season 
Of harvesting hay. 

And the overworked horses 
Of the long summer day 
Now pranced to the jingle 
Of the bells on the sleigh. 

Men made a good living, 

And lived a good life, 

With the swing of the cradle, 
And the corn-cutter’s knife. 

Living close to prime nature 
They lived close to God, 
Who prospered their labor 
By the turn of the sod, 

And the quests were as simple 
As the growth of the crops, 
And their robust religion 
Required no props. 

’Tis a profitless problem 
To puzzle the how, 

Since life is maintained 
By the sweat of the brow. 

While the brain is inventive 
Of superfluous needs, 

And machinery scatters 
The dragon-tooth seeds, 

’Tis better to master 
The things that are, 

Than to muse the occasion 
Of the far distant star. 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


231 


Man tames the wild forces 
Of nature that’s rude, 

While his own wayward spirit 
Remains unsubdued. 

For material interests 
That foster his gain 
He makes sacrifices, 

And suffers grave pain; 

But the graces of culture 
With value untold, 

Are not so attractive 
As the business of gold. 

The children go playing 
To the old schoolhouse, 
While science gropes dimly 
Like a blind field-mouse. 

But while children are learning 
The old rule of three, 

By the mind’s cultivation 
Deeper truths they will see. 

And better the vision 
Across fertile fields, 

Than the narrow environ 
The city street yields. 

The grass in the meadow 
Still wet with the dew, 

The buttercups yellow 
That freshen the view, 

Make soft-yielding carpet, 

For the barefoot boy, 

Who leaps o’er the clover 
In his frolicsome joy. 

In the old-time country 
In the days gone by, 

When green were the meadows, 
And bright was the sky, 


232 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Men made a good living, 

And lived a good life, 

With the swing of the cradle, 

And the corn-cutter’s knife. 

XVI 

Take me over the ocean wide, 

Over the restless sea, 

Mighty be menace of wind and tide, 

Perils but tranquillize me. 

Tattered the robe of life’s revelry, 

Sateless the social whirl, 

Weary the feet of Terpsichore, 

Colleague of lover and churl. 

Restless the languor of ennui, 

Petulant, indolent ease, 

Pressingly comes the call to me 
Panting with passionate pleas. 

Take me over the ocean wide, 

Over the jeopardized sea, 

Dauntless I’ll grapple the dangers that hide, 
Perils will tranquillize me. 

Horrors are throttling humanity’s rights, 
Cynical ills befall, 

Autocrat lords with their satellites 
Cultural forces enthrall. 

Self is not lithe in a fettered world, 
Freedom must franchise the race, 

Liberty into the conflict hurled 
Triumphs with tenable grace. 

Take me over the ocean wide, 

Over the hazardous sea, 

Threnodies woeful my tardiness chide, 

Agonies gesture to me. 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


233 


Deep the tonations of mortar and gun, 

Chill the artillery’s roar, 

Carnage of cannon, and rivers that run 
From the veins of the valiant corps; 

Curses that parry brutality’s thrust, 

Cheers that enhearten the brave, 

Hellish tornadoes of cruelty’s lust 
Hideous horrors that rave; 

Deluge of dust and the shell holes that gape, 
Ghastliest gaseous fumes, 

Implements monstrous and horrid of shape, 
Nameless the terrible dooms; 

Torrents of shrapnel, and shock of the shell, 
Groans of torturous death, 

Vengeance atrocious, wild lunacy’s yell, 
Labors of languishing breath; 

Refugees fleeing the regions of hell, 

Infamous massacre’s pall, 

Captives sustaining vile crimes that repel, 
Victims of slavery’s thrall; 

Merciless bullies unbridled in shame, 
Conscienceless demons of spite, 

Tempests of passion too beastly to name, 
Venomed humanity’s blight; 

Cries of the wounded, the groaning of pain, 
Pallor of hospital swarm, 

Glassy the gaze of death, last of the train, 
Lower the sleeping gendarme. 

Wearily ambles the invalid’s chair, 

Hapless the inconsolate aim, 

Shattered ambitions beyond all repair, 

Little of life to reclaim. 

Take me down to the river, 

To the solacing cascade’s croon, 

Where nature, remedial giver, 

Soothes sadness with slumberous boon.. 


234 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Distant the look in the deep-seated eye, 
Mindfully silent the mien, 

Gazes that into eternity pry 
Grasping the sombre unseen. 

Lost is the soul in a far-distant view, 
Muffled in solitude, 

Mute to inquisitive thoughts that pursue, 
Lone in its attitude. 

Take me down to the river, 

To the murmuring rock-bed stream, 
Where the leaves in tremulo quiver, 

And life is a lullaby-dream. 

Found is the self in the presence of God, 
Back of the thunder and storm, 

Free from its shackles and cumbering clod, 
In its immaterial form. 

Unrealities glide into dust, 

Naked the self and alone, 

Immortalities free from earth’s rust 
Turbulent transients dethrone. 

Stalwart the spirit from tinsel and dross 
Strips for the victor’s goal; 

Conquerors ever ascend by a cross 
To achieve a victor’s soul. 

Old is the story, but hard to be learned, 
Each puts the matter to test, 

Painful indentures, impressions inburned, 
Answer the serious quest. 

Pensively ambles the invalid’s chair, 

Not without purposeful aim, 

Shattered ambitions are under repair, 
Much may the spirit reclaim. 

Take me down to the river, 

To the running water-brook, 

Where the living stream flows ever 
By the Muses’ secluded nook. 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


235 


XVII 

Swiftly the orb of day his western course 
Was speeding toward the realms of Occident, 
And farewell rays of slanting crimson light 
Were cast athwart the fleecy drifting clouds, 
As wended slow his weary way amid 

The trees of sylvan shade a pilgrim aged. 

His mind was fraught with anxious care, and longed 
To soothe the ills of humankind, and wide 
Disperse the gloom of sorrow from the face 
Of troubled earth. 

Content he was not thus 
To leave the world in sorrow’s reign, and reap 
A partly earned reward for labored years 
Of toil to banish pain. 

His wearied form 

To rest, he sat beneath a sturdy tree 
Whose rugged arms outstretched did woo 
To restful solace, and sincerely seemed 
To say invitingly, Come unto me, 

My strength of centuries will succor thee. 

The blithesome birds the tree’s solicitude 
Espied, and gladly sought a refuge safe 
Among the beckoning boughs from dangers of 
The darksome night, while muffled twitter told 
The tale of comfort found for tired wings. 

No sorrow filled their lives, nor caused their 
breast 

To swell with anguish, or impassioned woe. 

But every rising sun renewed their song, 

And filled to overflowing every fount 
Of joy. 

The pendent leaves upon the boughs 
By breezes wafted clapped their rustling hands 
In glee, and gently swinging, kissed in mirth 


236 QUEST AND QUERY 

And pure affinity, while in the west 

The parting sun impressed upon the cheeks 
Of filmy star-obscuring cumulus cloud 
The tints of maiden blushes. 


All was joy 

In nature; all accordant with the strains 
Of harmony divine, save free-willed man, 

Who wills and makes his own discordant state 
In blind attempts to realize himself. 

The aged man reclined in reverie, 

And pondered o’er the ills of humankind, 

Until soft slumber lulled his fevered mind. 

And while he slept he dreamed subconscious 
thoughts 

Which were not all a dream, as slumber bore 
His spirit into realms of fantasy. 

A heaven-born power to him was given to calm 
The troubled world, and banish human woes. 
With mighty conquering step and steadfast zeal 
He trod the sin-stained earth, and put to flight 
All evil spirits tempting mortal man; 

And onward like a mighty rushing wind 
With hissing sound of tortuous seething gale 
He urged them to the abyss of time, o’er which 
They plunged with shrieking, agonizing cry, 

And fast were swallowed of eternity. 

Exultingly he sought the realm of Mars, 

Whose might he scorned, and from his sable halls 
He dragged him forth, and to eternal rocks 
With adamantine chains he bound him fast. 

And on unfruitful plains he seized faint Want, 

So pale and haggard, wandering wearily, 

And banished her to snow-capped mountain peaks; 

And forthwith sprang from plains of virgin soil 
Ripe fruits to appease faint Hunger, and allay 
All sufferings wrought by cruel savage Want. 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


237 


He placed his finger on the lips of Care, 

And hushed the whispers of pale trembling Fear, 
While o’er the world there gleamed a mellow light 
Of love and peace, illuminative truth, 
Transforming earth to glorious paradise, 

Such paradise as human fancy weaves. 

The pilgrim gazed upon his work with joy, 

And while his soul breathed ardent thanks for 
power 

To work such wondrous change, he saw three forms 
Of pure celestial grace swiftly approach, 

In sorrow hastening to their banishment. 

With anxious spirit gazed he on the forms 
Of banished holy sisters three, while fear, 

Foreboding fear, possessed his throbbing heart. 

As nearer came the messengers divine, 

Their robes of righteousness a glory cast 
Around the pilgrim aged, and sweetness most 
Ineffable their countenance illumed. 

Their tender, pure, yet searching eyes, transfixed 
His very soul, and speechless stood he there, 

Nor had he power to turn aside his gaze 
From such angelic grace. 

Then Mercy spoke, 

While Charity and Pity round him threw 
A halo of seraphic light: O man, 

O mortal man, thou hast thy soul’s desire; 

Thou iqad’st the earth a paradise, and hast 
Dispersed the gloom of sorrow from mankind. 

External powers of ill to man’s own soul 
To banishment are driven, yet man’s own heart 
Thou hast not, yea, thou canst not change, which 
still 

Self-willed is wont to seek a sordid end 
By surfeit of life’s pleasure-giving good. 

Two mighty forces, Sin and Death, are yet 
Unconquered, and will reign on earth despite 


238 QUEST AND QUERY 

Their powers weakened by the loss of hosts 
Of evils thou hast banished from the world. 

Now no corrective moves the human will, 

Since sad affliction is forever quelled, 

And man’s content to live in sin, if sin’s 
Effects no more distress the erring soul. 

As when the harp-strings struck with joyful hand 
Send forth the strains of rapturous harmony, 
How full expands the bosom, glad to join 
And swell the winsome cheering melody. 

But when the hand upon the strings is pressed, 
Then breathe the tones in fading cadence sad, 
That stir and penetrate the inner life, 

As muted minor accidence of truth. 

So too the life of man peals forth a song 
Of glad contentment in his mortal state 
When sweetest pleasures fill the cup of joy. 

But let the hand of God the heart-strings press, 
Then souls restrained, a sacred threnody 
Express, and sad affliction wakes the mind 
To the consciousness of life’s disharmony, 

And softly calls the soul, all tremulous 
In consciousness of wrong, to higher things, 

To sensibilities of life sublime. 

Thus spoke mild Mercy in reproving tones, 

And troubled sore the pilgrim’s aching heart. 

In anguish keen he smote upon his breast, 

And smiting, woke from troubled dream, that 
wrecked 

The structure of his philanthropic deeds, 

And left ambition homeless at its goal. 

The blithesome twittering birds were stilled to rest, 
The sun long ere had set behind the hills, 

And o’er the landscape vague, dark shadows stole, 
With noiseless step and hushing touch, to lull 
To sleep the languid strivings of the world, 

And to renew the nimbleness of morn. 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


239 


For soon again the sun shall peeping rise 

Through morning mist to wake the drowsy world, 
And life rejuvenated shall spring up 
With swift alacrity to reborn tasks, 

To reconstruct the things that crumble in 
The night of transmigrating energy. 

XVIII 

The pilgrim’s sore disquietude was calmed 
By placid rhythm of nature’s cheerfulness. 
Submission to life’s facts unchangeable 
Imparts contentment to the hopeful soul, 

When virile will is nobly resolute 
To recognize the fateful as divine. 

Returning slumber closed the pilgrim’s eyes, 

But sleepless mind its wandering reveries 
Continuously pursues. 

Creatively 

From vague impressions gleaned in waking hours 
New worlds are built, and oddly peopled with 
Presaging forms, previsions of strange fact. 

The pilgrim dreamed again a dream which far 
Illumed the indistinctly beaten path 
That hitherto but angel feet had trod, 

A path from which man’s wandering feet do err 
Recurrently, and miss the truest goal, 

And the tranquillity that satisfies. 

The seasons recapitulate their grace; 

The waving stalks of ripening wheat swayed by 
The playful winds predict the bounty of 

Grain’s garnered store, while silken corn treads on 
The heels of well threshed sheaves to fill the bin, 
Whose store the sleek well fatted flocks upon 
A thousand hills contentedly consume 

With care-free satisfaction. Orchard too, 


240 


QUEST AND QUERY 


And grassy meadow, yield their fatness to 

The labored year. The busy workmen plough 
And reap, and through the restful winter’s days 
Contrive the furnished comforts of their home. 
The artful house-wife deftly cards and spins, 

And dyes her fabrics tastefully to suit 
The fancy of the hour. 

Their rural wealth 
Endows a realm of natural comfort in 
Response to ceaseless frugal industry. 

The only anxious problems that perplex 
Requited toilers in their gain, arise 

From distribution of their surplus store. 

All fundamental things that life requires 

Their well constructing arm soundly supplies, 
While rounded character with judgment swift 
And keen erects substantial cultured state. 

No social caste man’s vagrant envy stirs, 

Nor pride of circumstance superior 
Creates hauteur with vain disdainful air. 

Industrial service knows no bitterness, 

Conniving league’s unborn to circumvent 
The social ills that rise from rivalries 
Of gain, or interpose conditions harsh, 

Provocative of turmoil and of strife 
Destructive of communal harmony. 

The idle hand its nature serves, the brain, 

That plots and weaves social scurrilities, 

Its sceptre wields o’er whispering circles of 
Veiled gossipers to poison happiness. 

The normal life of rugged pioneer, 

Of close communicant with nature’s rich 

And fertile stores, dwells wholesome and serene. 

The luxury of circumstance, the love 
Of fabricated beauty wrought by skill 
Of genius, the profit that accrues 

From swift-made product gliding from th§ mill, 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


241 


Whose delicate entanglement of wheels 
An excellence distils for things of art, 

Distress the quietude of nature’s course 
By din of life’s accelerated pace. 

The ghost of industry on gliding wheels 

Disturbs the pilgrim’s rest, and in his dream 
He sees Hephaestus with his forging tools, 

With fiery blast, and smoke and grimy sweat, 
Invent the self-corrosive coin of gain, 

And rivalries that pain the industrial world. 

From Ceres’ home goes forth the husbandman 
To be a wheel within a whirring mill. 

The maiden leaves her flax and wool, her seat 
By distaff in the spacious room, to pale 
And wither in a little cage swung high, 

Where click the instruments recording gain. 

Hephaestus hurries forth his building gangs, 

And long straight rows of little hollow blocks 
He labels homes, to hive a city’s throng. 

The farmer’s well made furnishings are now 
Exchanged for fragile household toys, and from 
His garnered stores of grain, from flocks and 
fields, 

Streams all the surplus of his labored toil. 

On weary trucks of steel, electrified 
By genius with his toiling sweat, the load 
Of life is prodded on. 

The idle hand 

Well disciplined for crime now circumvents 
Another’s purse. The thief and robber dwell 
In anarchy’s abode, and to resist, 

Entails the bomb, and ghastly homicide. 

Competitors of capital their claims 

Would litigate. The playhouse gay, in lieu 
Of recreative home, the fevered whirl 
Of social revelry, excite the mind, 


242 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Arouse the fevered passions of the weak, 

And stir a restlessness which life unnerves. 
The abnormalities of appetite distract 

The normal world, while moral chaos reigns. 

The armed multitude that makes its beat 
For maintenance of public order and 
Of peace, the citadels for convicts and 

For criminals, the courts, and congress halls, 
The pillared homes of legislated rules, 

Of filibuster, and of compromise, 
Entanglements of rights and wrongs, construct 
A world of tumult, and of anarchy, 

Of untold wealth, of cost and poverty, 

The claims of which no learned ermined judge 
Of highest court with firm finality 
May fully solve by wisest of decrees. 

The reel of world confusion rushed its scenes 
Athwart the dream of sleeping pilgrim, till 
Hephaestus and his hosts retired from 

The troubled vision, and the fairer throngs 
Of wisdom’s children by Minerva led, 

Controlled the quiet avenues of mind. 

Not one, but thousands, that refuse to bow 
The knee to Baal, and his gifts decline. 

The fevered dream of harassed pilgrim, now 
Transformed to placid imagery, traversed 
The sanctuaries of men’s souls to seek 
The unity of holiness. 


The strange 

Diversities of ceremonial form, 

The singularities of verbal creed, 

Are but the raiment of the struggling soul 
In serious effort to attain the goal 
Of ultimate salvation. Over all 
Diversities one Holy Spirit broods. 

With mantle red, or cloak of black or grey, 
With sacrament of body, or of bread, 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


243 


With fingers two, or open brooding hand 
Of benediction’s grace, one end is sought, 

The holy life that walks with God, the saved, 
The godly soul. 

All holiness is one, 

And they who bear the fruits of godliness, 
Though bowing to strange deities, disclose 
The inner holy power that sanctifies. 

The noble souls of varying creed reveal 
A unity of spirit none may scorn, 

A sanctity that tells of Christ within. 

Redeeming force that smiles at lisping creed, 
A force that casts out demons in Christ’s name. 
And proves itself to be of Him who saves. 

XIX 

I look into the face of self so scarred 
By suffering, and wonder if it is 
True self. It must be self that’s on the way 
To find some better state, to reach 
Felicities of creature life beyond 

The pain attendant on great laws transgressed. 

The life defaced by sin’s disease, is self 

Hurled back by forward going righteousness 
For readjustment to the realm of truth, 

Which wields the properties of moral health. 

Entangled in the meshes of deceit, 

As tawdry trappings of external things, 

The buffeting of life’s disharmonies 

Dispels illusions, and reveals the true. 

The bold contrast injected into man’s 

Career, so rudely hurled into his dreams, 
Shocks self into a lively consciousness, 

Creates new values for the cultured soul. 


244 


QUEST AND QUERY 


But happy man is more than inner life 
Serene amid earth’s wild disharmonies. 

Life’s daily doles of pleasure-gifts construct 
A mere environment; yet harmony 
Of things, sweet vestment of experience, 

A world’s complacency goodly disposed, 
Conducts the soul to just tranquillity, 

And robes the world in graceful righteousness. 

The beauty of external form, the sight 
That titillates the sense of harmony, 

The sounds that symphonize the vibrant earth, 
The tender touch of social gentleness, 
Compose a comely world. 


Where brutish things 
Are made regenerate, and beautified 
Are all disheveled elements of form, 

Where wills chime symphonies of righteousness, 
God fraternizes, walks and talks with men, 
Whose elegance of soul deistic makes 
The earth, and earth in turn allures the King 
Of all things beautiful to dwell with men. 

My highest personality does not 
Consist in elements unshareable; 

But in the richness and variety 

Of thoughts sublime, of actions manifold, 
Fraternal deeds, that bless and well befriend, 

The wider self pervasive of the whole. 

I am a comrade of humanity, 

A social soul in fellowship with God; 

Organic to society, I am 

Organic to a universal world. 

The soul is more than integer; it is 
A correlated living link between 
A world of selves. 


IN QUEST OF SELF 


245 


I cannot reach full self 
In isolation’s cave, but only as 
A living member of a larger life. 

I ne’er possess myself entirely, 

Ideals run before. 


Not what I am, 

But what I purpose to become, measures 
The quantity of self, the life to be, 

The social soul that shares eternity. 

XX 

And so the self runs on before, 

Makes future life its goal, 

Arrives hot-panting at the door, 

And falls a broken bowl. 

The warm life floods the threshold o’er, 
Where now the eager soul? 

The knell this side the fast-closed door 
Replies with faltering toll. 


CANTO XII 


THE QUEST FOR GOD 

I 

There is an eye for things unseen, a soul 
Susceptible. Sufficient is the light, 

But eyes are dim. To see things inwardly and 
whole 

Effulgent intuition gives insight. 

The soul’s frail attitude to things is so 
Impermanent, for man is changing all 
The while the changing moments come and go, 

And fitful thought-dominions rise and fall. 

Insatiate the cravings of man’s soul 

For God, the quest for whom in holy mien 
Sometimes appears to reach the sacred goal 
Through revelations by great prophets seen. 

Some messianic captain comes and saves 
Contemporary comrades in their cry 
For better things. Some ethic hero braves 
The den of thieves vicariously to die 
For principles whose moorings ever change 
Throughout an ever changing world of time; 
The goal of good is not attained by range 
Of single aeon’s slow ascending climb. 

Anent the rugged path a vision gleams 
Of manhood noble, luring to the great, 

To what is good and true; and he who deems 
The dream a holy call to higher state, 

With valorous abandon follows in 
The trail of tortuous truth. 

246 


THE QUEST FOR GOD 


247 

Divine the large 

Adventure of the soul that feels akin 
To virtuous infinitude. With barge 
Upon an ocean vast he sails in search 
Of wooing evanescent good, which lures 
By dreams to mystic cloudland isles where perch 
Unreachable delights, where mist obscures 
Treasures delectable. To bring to earth 
The earthly unattainable, the man 
From heaven comes down, and brings to virgin 
birth 

The good that dwells in realms where dreams 
began. 

To sail among the stars excites cold dread 
In such as ne’er pursue impalpables, 

In souls of timorous tone, by taste unbred 
For thought which lofty speculation culls. 

The voyagers in search of truth are such 
As feel the roll of billows neath their feet, 

Yet tremble not, while groping fingers touch 
The planes where doubtfuls and the certain meet. 

Vast things obscure exist in distant clime 
On which divulging light may never shine, 
Empires inscrutable, the screened sublime, 
Whose substance only faith and hope enshrine. 

Mysterious realms surround our cosmic life. 

The mystic is the comrade of unseen 
Celestial spirit in a realm that’s rife 

With truth, which a communing God, whose 
mien 

Is kindly in its condescending grace, 

Imparts in whispers to men’s souls akin. 

The mystic meets the spiritual face to face; 

The silent God, who dwells man’s soul within, 
His secrets to the mystic’s soul relates. 

The feebler soul feels after God in form 


248 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Of human sympathy, and fondly mates 
Himself in fellow-feeling to the norm 

Of man, holy and merciful, indwelt 

By God. The timeless mystic tranquil rests; 

Unlapsed in man the innate God is felt, 

While restless souls lean on convivial breasts. 

Christ’s not his God, but mediates the God 
To him, for Christ is God in man; supreme 

In spirit in the higher path he trod, 

Christ is the real of what men only dream. 

Christ is not God, but God revealed, aver 
Evangelists, God manifest in flesh; 

Who this distinction cannot see, never 
Should touch theology. To state afresh 

Man’s league with God, which never should be odd, 
Christ said, “Ye do in me the Father see.” 

He never said, “I am Jehovah God.” 

But claimed an ethical equality. 

Within the web of life without a seam 
God lives; and Jesus throbs with deity. 

Identical in will with God, supreme, 

Christ lives; and will is personality. 

II 

Immanuel is God within, 

Not mechanique, but life akin 
To lofty man; 

More closely bound than earthly twin, 

A subtler weave than fingers spin 
Of artizan. 

A spirit-touch on intellect, 

Peculiar graces which effect 
A genius, 

Eccentric life which we suspect, 

Such digits mark the architect 
Of overplus. 


THE QUEST FOR GOD 


249 


The canvas with its color-soul, 

The statue crowned with aureole, 

Speaks life unique. 

Poetic rhythm, pure time’s control, 
Sonata-wavelets, sound the whole 
Of life we seek. 

Dynamic from within, the power 
Which flows from God as spirit-dower, 
Would dignify 

The transient things of fleeting hour, 
Explore thought-majesties that tower 
Where angels pry. 

He who aspires sees things afar, 

Leaves earth to follow guiding star 
To God as goal; 

Knows nothing styled as secular, 

Fears no impediments that bar, 

Nor hidden shoal. 

The high-aspiring man defines 
The spirit-objects he assigns 
To his desire. 

His very thirst for God divines 
The spirit-nature of the shrines 
His ends require. 

Ill 

Lives there a being all unseen 
Whose secret movements deftly screen 
What might have been? 

Does aught obtain but patent fact, 

And why should follow fruitless act 
Some sad chagrin? 

Strange things in thinking man we see; 
If life be all necessity, 

Whence man’s regret? 


250 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Moves the supernal in his soul 
While he descends to vulgar goal? 
Extremes have met! 

That God exists, do we assume, 

That luring legend may illume 
Our darkened mind? 

Dissatisfied with things that axe 
Life posit we, or near or far, 

Of other kind? 

Which is immortal, matter, mind; 

Or which precedes the other kind; 

Can mortal know? 

In evolution’s vast domain 
Do vagrant things live and obtain 
That do not grow? 

Strives aught in universal span 
Than the divine that dwells in man? 
Who’s so unkind 

To say of him who views the strand 
Sceptic to see another land, 

That he is blind! 

Man is not first, but last in turn, 

Of things that live, and fade, and burn, 
Until consumed. 

Survives a remnant of this waste 
With formless spirit interlaced, 

Or matter fumed? 

Does matter frame the deathless life, 

Can soul be pierced by sword or knife, 
Or spirit burned? 

In torture-chamber driven mad 
By flame and torment, fate too sad 
For soul interned! 

What is Gehenna? just a scheme 
To picture by a fervid gleam 
Evil desert? 


THE QUEST FOR GOD 


251 


Sphere of immortals, who blaspheme 
The good that noble souls esteem, 

For moral hurt? 

And if it be the soul that’s pained 
For things in mortal life profaned, 
There good abides. 

Remorse itself shows moral reign, 

Regret reveals the soul still sane, 

Virtue presides. 

Achievement of eternal life 
Seems resident within the strife 
In Hades’ flame. 

May renovation be the end 
To which such tribulations bend 
For full reclaim? 

There may be souls past all remorse, 
Who never could the good endorse, 
Perdition’s sons. 

Annihilation be the goal 
For the disintegrated soul 
That virtue shuns? 

Conditional, immortal life? 

Some deathless virtue won through strife, 
Quality’s dole ? 

Metempsychosis be the wheel 
On which migrating spirits reel 
On their parole? 

To live forever; what a dream! 
Monotony to the extreme! 

Ages applaud! 

Let Lethe’s flood be endless deep; 

Too sad the harvest we may reap; 

Why want a God! 

* Our aspirations come and go, 

To bloom, then fade, the poppies grow 
From germinal pod. 


252 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The Milky Way is life unfurled, 

From star-dust comes the fertile world; 
What need of God? 

Unconscious glows the vast suns’ glare, 

The stars shine on with blinkless stare; 

Why thinks the clod! 

What germal mote upon this earth 
Sank into dreams and brought to birth 
The thought of God? 

Some secret force struggles within, 

Some pulsing principle akin 
To feelings awed. 

The universe in plumbless space 
Forever runs an endless race; 

What is a God? 

Lives the Divine in higher form 
Than in familiar common norm 
Of human race? 

Must faith explore through stress and storm 
Vast altitudes, man’s thought deform, 

To see God’s face? 

Should personality alone 

Spell the Divine, Spirit enthrone? 

Existence great 
May far excel created man, 

Who measures God by human clan, 

Than mind can state. 

Man may attain a higher plane, 

May richer consummation gain, 

Than mind conceives; 

Death be a spirit-form of birth 
Dissevering everything of earth 
To which he cleaves. 

Heaven’s wide dominion knows no map, 
The spirit-land nor skies nor gap, 

All’s realm of right. 


THE QUEST FOR GOD 


253 


Nonentity no limit knows, 

Invisible to all tiptoes 
This land of light. 

Some influence bides in night afar, 
And circumscribes each shining star; 

Is it inane? 

Just call it God, it’s greater far 
Than puny thoughts which would debar 
In weak disdain. 


IV 

Complaining weakling, up, away! 

Some life implant in lingering day, 
Something of power. 

Sarcastic snarl of cynicism, 

Contracting cramp of pessimism, 

Can only lower. 

Dissatisfied, my soul still frets; 

Despite bold boasts and brief regrets 
I fain would laud 

A sphere where sun-rimmed shadows glow, 

Where conflicts clarify, and so, 

I want a God. 

There’s higher beauty than mere form; 

My feelings burst in moral storm 
Neath chastening rod. 

Till will is weaned, and thoughts adore 

What’s pure, the moral fair, therefore, 

I need a God. 

Some unplumbed impulse leads me on 

In search of ends not reached by brawn 
That turns the sod; 

To nobler scruples, luring flight 

In crooked spirals to the height 
Where dwells a God, 


254 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Through hazy mist’s designing drift 
Earth’s writhing forces make a rift; 

While flits abroad 
Endeavor’s dream begetting hope, 
Projecting plans of boundless scope, 
Pursuing God. 

Ambition’s pique, and passion’s ire, 

Kindle the world with purging fire. 

All life is prod 

By upward push, by screened desire, 

By tickle, tide, by luring lyre, 

By spurs of God. 

The sensing heave of troubled breast, 
The world’s wide throb of souls’ unrest, 
Makes upward plod. 

A goal soft-glimmering in the blue 
Attracts to ethic purpose true; 

Might it be God? 

When dust reacts and thinks of self, 
And wrathful Waibling pommels Welf, 
There’s something odd. 

Be there a cause, there be an end, 
Intentional meaning in a trend, 
Suggesting God. 

Some sequence glimmers in the flaw 
Of playful life, and pouncing paw 
With red blood shod; 

An aim that glitters in the eye 
Of life-instinct in earth and sky; 
Something of God. 

The royal highway of our dreams, 

The ascending paths of ethic beams 
The seers have trod, 

These lead to Him, Immutable, 
Full-reasoned End, Inscrutable, 
All-seeing God. 


255 


THE QUEST FOR GOD 
V 

Idyllic twilight’s deepening, 

The thought of God is cheapening; 

His love outlawed. 

1 looked for peace, lo, agony! 

I searched and found in cenoby 
A listless God. 

Omniscient is the holy One? 

He sees the lovelorn, the undone; 

Visions defraud. 

Sweet Relic of a lyric mood, 

Askance He views the viper brood; 

Is this a God? 

Of boundless love, a Being great, 

While loveless millions meanly hate 
Beneath the rod! 

Benign abstruse Omnipotence 
Indifferent to sin’s recompense; 

Spells this a God? 

Perhaps such sphere no great God made; 

The little gods His hands have stayed, 

Who carry hods. 

Bold Babels towering to the skies 
Belch brawling tumults, hurtle cries, 

Of little gods. 

Earth’s swindling knaves with shouts and groans 
Articulate in bitterest tones 
Fraternal frauds. 

They make of heaven a harrowing hell, 

Infernal pageant, flippant, fell, 

Who would be gods. 

Indulgent Lord! does He not rule, 

Who summons miscreants to school, 

And plies the rod? 

Is He asleep on bed of wool! 

Can He be else than masterful 
And yet be God! 


256 


QUEST AND QUERY 


And if there be an endless hell, 

Then God has failed, dauntless to tell, 
To that extent. 

A by-product, profitless pain! 

The universe to moral gain 
Is rudely bent. 

Final defeat! far from our thought 
To such extreme a God be brought! 
Ethics deny. 

Might thought of God be in the wrong, 
While all the universe a song, 

And man the sigh? 

Not sleek evasion meek to say 
Escape may come some other way 
From seeming fraud. 

A difference obtains between 
The moral life of solemn mien 
That misses God, 

And the life beautiful, as queen, 

Whose retinue evades routine 
Of well-drilled squad, 

The quaint religionists of creed, 

Who damn good deeds, and then proceed 
To measure God. 

Man makes his God in imaging 
A man in likeness to his king, 

With his defect. 

Give personality and love, 

Man’s prostrate attributes above, 

For God elect. 


VI 

Show us a God, a Father-God, 

Whose ends outreach the chastening rod 
Acutely felt; 


THE QUEST FOR GOD 


257 


Then it sufficeth us when such 
In sympathy our wounds shall touch, 
Where rancor dwelt. 

The etiquette of the unreal 
With mawkish smirks declines to kneel 
Neath chastening rod. 

Who basks in joys, deems pain a bane, 
Weaves raptures into silken chain, 

So fetters God. 

He who declines to see the light 
Shortly shall cease to know the right. 

The vision dim 

Which will approves, augments the night, 
Till atrophied the moral sight 
In darkness grim. 

Who dares to face discordant strings, 

And music strike till welkin rings, 

While seas applaud, 

Encounters force with victory; 

Protagonist of power shall see 
His way to God. 


He sees that suffering’s not a bane, . 

Who treads the path of peerless pain 
Which heroes trod. 

Who can his blinkered eyes unbind 
Is on the winding path to find 
The unknown God. 

The fearless spurn effeminate plaint, 
Nor whimpering whirl, and foolish faint 
At wounding wad; 

But sight the goal, and play the game, 
With agile will, limbs hale or lame, 

And win their God. 


258 


QUEST AND QUERY 
VII 

Too much our God is intellect, 

Too much the product of a sect, 

By logic made. 

Mayhap God grows, Himself reveals 
Through gradual breaking of the seals 
Of masquerade. 

Impassiveness is not a grace, 

Distresses show a sweeter face 
Than soulless calm. 

God sees it all, He feels it all, 

With us afflicted by the mall 
Exudes the balm. 

Our God is closer than we think, 

His dwelling place not on the brink 
Of the unknown. 

He is the life, which underlies 
All virtues under suffering skies, 

To manhood grown. 

Resignation with its beauty, 

Talent with its sense of duty, 

Pleads no quod; 

Confronting ill no revenue 
To reason out, but love it through; 

Then gain and God. 

Divinity in ultimate 

Is no mere mystic sublimate, 

But God in man. 

Then ring aloud the Christmas bells, 
Around the world their message tells 
Why earth began. 

Proclaim afar a man-child born, 

Whose flesh was pierced by spear and thorn, 
The great Man-God, 

Who conquered swooning sense of death, 
And gave to men unfailing breath, 

And blest the rod. 


THE QUEST FOR GOD 


259 


VIII 

Where’er man turns his searching eyes, 

In canyons deep, or starry skies, 

There moves abroad 
A spirit-sense of unity, 

Earth’s values in community, 

That breathes of God. 

One image of Himself God made: 

Though fugitive the features fade, 

There’s likeness yet. 

And so to man I turn mine eyes, 

Instead of deeps and starry skies 
My path to get, 

That leads my longing to its goal 
To find life’s meaning and its soul. 

There’s more of God 
In little boot-black than in beam 
Of rainbow mist, or Jungfrau gleam, 

Or diamond trod 

By merchant-venture in its search 
Profaned by brutal slavery’s smirch, 

Which knows no God, 

But energy, that wreaks with pain, 

But values low of glittering gain, 

Beneath the sod. 

In ancient days pictorial 

God’s ways with men were corporal, 

With men He walked. 

In cordial concourse face to face, 

With leisured gait and moral pace, 

He walked and talked. 

Man’s not from God a thing apart, 

God dwells within, speaks from man’s heart, 
With still small voice. 


26 o 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Thus ever-growing virtuous sense 
Has shown man’s moral excellence 
By conscious choice. 

No part of life’s infallible, 

The soul of man is malleable, 

Reaction reigns. 

In all the changing views of time 
The sensing soul makes upward climb 
With plodding gains. 

That spiritual truth alone i§ fixed 
’Mid thought’s wide realm with error mixed, 
Is but presumed. 

The claim, God’s message is foreclosed, 

That questioners should be deposed, 

Is falsehood doomed. 

Man’s still in quest his God to find, 

And slowly mysteries unwind 
Their secret store. 

The mind of God to human mind 
Reveals God’s messages in kind 
Yet more and more. 

So he that sees will not disdain 
The glorious path of peerless pain 
The heroes trod. 

Who can his blinkered eyes unbind 
Moves on the winding path to find 
The unknown God. 

IX 

’Tis not by quest that God is found, but by 
Receptiveness. Nor is God ever found, 

But Self-disclosed to open soul, to eye, 

That pierces mists which deity surround. 

The cults of faith, to antiquated form 
Inalienably bound, find God alone 
In terms of creed. The godly life that’s warm 
With love, with deeds which graciously atone 


THE QUEST FOR GOD 


261 


For social inconsistencies, is damned, 

Unless it thinks in terms of ancient lore. 

’Tis not by fruits, censorious passions calmed, 
The soul is gauged, but creedal rule of yore. 

The blinded eye with censor’s beam as flaw 
Sees not the sturdy soundness of a deed, 

But sees the loosing of a Sabbath law: 

The man is damned who sees; decisive is the 
creed. 

The measure of the man is garment’s cut, 

Some triplicate of terms, precision’s rule 
Of symbolism, or intellectual strut, 

That’s circumscribed by antique reticule. 

Intolerance is still the devil’s foil 
For the malignities of fruitless faith; 

This world-wide harvest of his saintly spoil, 
Religion not of conduct, but of breath! 

To doubt that God has standardized the minds 
Of His redeemed, by proxy penalized 
The souls of His elect, by many kinds 
Of punishment chastises the despised, 

Is base rebellious insolence. One cast 
Of fabricated dogma crystallized 
In Jewish sacrificial type must last 
The ages through. 

The mind of God is sized 
By ancient Jewish grasp, His will defined 
In forms of ancient jealous potentate; 

The forms, once oriental figure,. bind 
What should be pliant, into rigid state. 

Man’s occidental science, so precise, 

Makes quadrupeds of oriental thought, 

Whose winged and airy movement takes its rise 
In lithesome poetry in symbols wrought. 


262 QUEST AND QUERY 


The wretched state of ancient scrawny world, 

The poverty of humble humankind 

In endless round of pinching miseries twirled, 
Made suffering an idol full-enshrined. 

The cross is transient means, and not an end; 

Nor final goal, to pass beneath a rod. 

Despotic souls a despot Lord defend, 

Assert an antique God, which is no God. 

No apotheosis of suffering 

Expresses the full will of God; our pain, 

But temporal means; our grievous buffeting, 

The tortuous road to rich eventual gain. 

Not ever shall the hardest means command 
The soul’s approach to its beatitude. 

The growing world some day shall understand 
God has great ends by sweeter methods wooed. 

’Tis not the death of Christ, but death of Christ, 
That marks the movement of the world’s 
advance ; 

The ethic of the atrocious deed sufficed 
To prove the heinousness of arrogance. 

Man draws the line somewhere in suffering, 

But nowhere short of death did Christ redeem 

The claim of loyalty to truth, as king, 

And proved His personality supreme. 

When with the Christ the valiant man his life 
Identifies, for deathless truth to die, 

He stamps earth’s sin in all its angry strife 
Upon the souls of them that love the lie. 

X 

It is the truth that greatly sanctifies; 

Truth lived is deathless even on a cross, 

And well atones for all of Belial’s lies, 

The volubility of passions’ toss. 


THE QUEST FOR GOD 


263 


Truth’s herald dies a martyr in the school 
Of prophecy. The eyes of men are fixed, 
Full-focused on the past. The seer’s a fool, 
There’s no new truth; his word a lie unmixed. 

God’s revelation is declared complete; 

The sacred archives of the past suffice 
To tell what’s necessary and discreet, 

All other truth is kept for paradise. 

So further quest for God is empty, vain, 

God cloaks Himself, unwilling to be seen. 

To question, or to challenge, is profane, 

God keeps the best behind a veiling screen. 

Man’s humble prayer for guidance and for light 
Expresses what his dogma firm denies: 

That God has further truth for human sight, 

That fuller answer comes to human cries. 

The hungry heart of man knows better far 
Than all that dogma may affirm. Man knows 
That pearly gates of truth stand e’er ajar, 

And gapes to see what heaven can disclose. 

’Tis not by quest that God is found, but by 
Receptiveness. Nor is God ever found, 

But Self-disclosed to open soul, to eye, 

That pierces mists which deity surround. 

And so the pilgrim on his weary way 

Builds temporal inn, a hallowed earthly fane, 

A gate of heaven wide-opening to convey 

The sight of God by worship’s hymnal strain. 

XI 

O Holy, Holy, Holy Lord! 

Be Thy great Name by all adored! 

Thy might through all creation moves, 

A holy might which love approves. 


264 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Thy sovereign skill in artful rule 
Has carved the worlds without a tool. 

Thy Spirit wakes the sense of right, 

And speaks with mandatory might. 

Through spacious realms Thy boundless love 
Prevails all other loves above. 

Thy watchful purpose is to bless, 

To rescue, and to give redress. 

Our grateful alleluias raise 

Accordant symphonies of praise; 

Let all the earth Thy poem be, 

Expressive of Thy harmony. 

XII 

The Lord our God is Holy Love; 

Spirit of Love, our souls’ desire, 

We acknowledge Thee to be the Lord. 

Most notable art Thou, O Lord! 

In every land, in every tongue, 

The noblest thought of every soul 
Finds its embodiment in Thee. 

Thou art the fullest dream of life, 

The incarnation of all art. 

The beautiful in every form 
Finds corporate fulness in Thy grace. 

Most wonderful Thy history 
Enfolded in Thy workmanship; 

Unfolded in the tendencies 
Of great aspiring souls, who breathe 
Thine atmosphere, and company 
With Thee. 

The sense of godliness, 

The love of truth, integrity, 

Of honor and of purity, 

Are radiations of Thy will, 

The values of eternal life. 


THE QUEST FOR GOD 


265 


Man falters in Thy company, 

But will not ever let Thee go; 

For loss of Thee is loss of self, 
The dream of Thee, night’s only joy. 

Thou hearest echoes of Thyself 
In us. The image of Thyself, 

The undulations of Thy will, 

Impinge our tremulous lives. 

Thy radiant Self involves our soul, 
In Thee we live, and move, and are. 

Yet much of us is not Thyself, 
Thyself transcends our fragile clay, 
And the more stubborn errancy 
Of our opposing human will. 

Thy will and purposes survive 
Our human tragical defeat. 

XIII 

Confession is oneself to self 
Revealed, inner reality 
Brought to judicial consciousness. 

Humility is the descent 
Of man to his true cognizance, 

From which he rises in pursuit 
Of moral gains incipient in 
Self-recognition viewed in terms 
Of spiritual possibility. 

In health of body man forgets 
His clay, and grows unconscious of 
His moral fragileness and fault. 

So too in bodily pang, in pain 
Of physical discomforts, he 
Is wont to value just the clay, 

The frail machinery of life. 

And slight the morals of his state. 


266 


QUEST AND QUERY 


His senses so susceptible 
To earthly circumstance rightly 
Inform of his necessities. 

Material things command; regard 
For self grows profligate, and love 
For men limps partial on its way. 

A disposition needful grows extreme 
Till natural affections are 
Depraved, and ministry to self 
Absorbs all current benefits. 

Man’s vices oft are virtues in 
Excess, the good that’s overdone. 

His sin is chiefly selfishness. 

With clay-bound eyes he dimly sees 
The virtues that are heavenly. 

The vision of the great and true 
Is glance above the passion of 
The soul, for bodily benefits. 

To prize the perfect life unwon, 
Brings sense of sin, displeasure at 
The inconsistencies that thwart 
The better self. A longing for 
Superlatives of moral worth, 

For gains that make for godliness, 

For beauty of life’s holiness, 

Is change of mind from lower thought 
Of mere ephemerals that fade 
And leave unsated life’s desire, 

To values costly, that partake 
Of truth and immortality. 

Life’s faults to own, offences to 
Deplore, wrong-doings to renounce, 
Repentance honest and sincere, 

Is true conversion unto God. 


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The sordid and ephemeral 
Give way to love of righteousness; 

And absolution is innate 
In all abandonment of sin. 

When self is new, and new-disposed, 
Misdeeds of old no more express 
The new-grown personality; 

Not his the deeds that once arraigned; 
Who judges self with judgment true 
Eludes the bar of God, escapes 
The rod of alien consequence. 

XIV 

Thee we praise, the Lord of glory, 
Sovereign of the realm of right; 
Wondrous is the sacred story 
Of the kindness of Thy might. 

Dwell Thou in us richly, graciously, 

Spirit of refining grace, 

Cleanse our hearts, that meekly, spaciously, 
They may boundless life embrace. 

Fill our souls with love, most tenderly 
To impart some kindly good 
To the sad, in want and penury 
Of the cheer of brotherhood. 

Social be our joys extendingly, 

Genial every attitude, 

All our actions most befriendingly 
Others’ happiness include. 

Worldwide is Thy love’s dominion, 

Ample is Thy will to save; 

Simple be our creed’s opinion 
Of the way our Lord forgave. 


268 


QUEST AND QUERY 

Be our aspiration holiness, 

Kind, brave, beautiful our lives, 

Service true, and comforts numberless; 

To this end Thy Spirit strives. 

To Thy voice our conscience echo, 

Guide our vigor by Thy glance. 

By the stress of toil and sorrow 
Shape our lives in consonance. 

Wrought our deeds not great, but greatly, 
Our reward the worth of self; 
Benefactions born innately, 

Free from thrall of earthly pelf. 

As we clasp Thy hand confidingly, 

Lead our feet in pathways plain, 
Centered in Thy love abidingly 
Be Thy heart our hallowed fane. 

Weary in our toiling, dreaming, 

Evening shows the starry dome, 
Through the starlight softly gleaming, 
Take us gently, gladly home. 

XV 

The mental attitude of man 
Toward the vital truths of life, 

That lie partly concealed within 
The petals of unfolding time, 

Finds oft a crystallized repose 
In some invariable creed. 

Each era of the changing world 
Needs reexpression to its thought. 

Religion, old as human hope, 

Innate in all the wonder of 
Inexplicable mysteries, 

Has constant voice, inconstant speech; 
Religion’s content tarries e’er, 

While language loiters for a time, 

A yearly wine-skin for the wine of thought. 


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269 


’Tis through religious consciousness 
That the Ineffable His will reveals; 
The growing man grasps growing truth. 
Eternal thought wears temporal dress, 
And truth appears e’er in disguise, 

Too dazzling for the eye of clay, 

Too deep for single aeon’s plumb. 

Truth makes restless adjustment to 
The measure of the man. 


The God 

Unmeasured finds but brief repose 
In measured creed, in lisping speech 
Of reverential late-born sons. 

They mean it well, and well believe 
Their reverent complicated creed; 
Essentials are in simple form, 
Nutritious milk for infant-born. 

The truth is old, but man is young, 

A little lower yet than God. 

Man frames the language of his God 
As God inbreathes His Spirit-life 
Into man’s soul; inspires the schemes 
Of spiritual sequence and its cause. 

With limitations manifold, 

Yet of restriction unaware, 

Imperfect man, imperfect in 
His grasp of truth that’s infinite, 
Peculiar in his consciousness, 

The offspring of his age, would give 
Unchanging form to vital truth, 

And in the name of God impose 
His mental shape on plastic thought, 
Would halt the nimble hands of time, 
And falsify truth’s dial face. 


270 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Belief in God is natural, 

A God that makes and keeps, defends 
By might superior, bestows 
His bounty on His devotees, 

Chastizes all who spurn His rule. 

The ethics of God’s will at length 
Begin to agitate the mind 
Of man. 


No arbitrary rule 
May well express the will of God. 

What is inhuman cannot be 
A privileged principle of God ; 

What shameful is for man to do, 

So doing, God no God can be. 

God’s ever God, man’s thought’s at fault, 
When logic by false premises 
Involves a God in moral wrong. 

God’s essence is a holy love, 

And ill befits immoral might 
Veiled by some hidden mystery. 

The God of love reveals Himself 
The Father-God, who calls His own 
The children of His liberal grace. 

Of parenthood there is no tie 
That binds so tenderly the young 

In vital bond of family love, 

As binds in fondness every soul 
That bears the image of its God 
To Him who so creates and loves. 

Out of man’s knowledge and his hope 
Religion builds its palaces 
Of intellectual formulae. 

God is a Spirit, personal, 

And pure, whose will is energy; 
EternaLSpirit, vital Force, 

Who makes and keeps the universe; 


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271 


Whose action is the progress of 
Ideal to accomplished real, 

The consummation of a plan 
Forever moving toward its goal. 

His attribute supreme is Love, 

With which all other attributes 
Accord; all values center in 
His ethical felicities. 

His purpose is creation, and 
The moulding of a moral realm, 
Toward which end He stately moves, 
And for which end a universe 
He frames, and builds material worlds. 

His immanence indwells all things 
As person, power or effect. 

Material worlds objectively 
Are real, but impermanent 
In form and mode of energy. 

His immanence became unique 
Within the Man of Nazareth, 

By whom the Fatherhood of God 
Was comprehensively revealed. 

His revelation knows no end, 

His perfect will being disclosed 
By prophet, psalmist, spiritual sage, 
Throughout all ages of the world. 

Man’s hope of immortality 
Abides with deathless love of life. 

In his similitude to God 
Man is a spirit-entity; 

Partaker of a nature so 
Divine, he shares in endlessness. 

His mortal frame is transient dress, 
Terrestrial mechanism’s mould, 

The scaffold of constructed soul. 


272 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The soul progresses in its sphere 
To spirit-life invisible, 

In which it has the pleasures of 
Self-conscious continuity, 

Of fullest self-expression, and 
Of ethical development. 

What God in His own likeness makes 
Must meaning have profound, supreme, 
Chief part of purpose, virtual plan, 

To multiply His moral self. 

For God creates not to destroy, 

But to transform, and to renew; 

And service is the majesty 
Of God and man forevermore. 

Man with his timeless Maker shares 
Life’s ageless values spirit-born; 

The dust returns to mother earth, 

The spirit, filial, turns to God. 

’Tis saviourhood that makes God great, 
’Tis Spirit that makes God innate; 
Salvation’s soundness of the soul, 
Imperishable entity. 

Adventure great, the quest for God! 
’Tis search for the Invisible, 

Quest interrogative, that moulds 
Environment and character; 

That shows the searcher as a friend, 
Aspirant of the beautiful. 

XVI 

Holy Father, 

Thou art life itself; 

All things subsist in Thee. 

Thou art in the world, 

And the world is in Thee. 


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273 


Thou art Source and End; 

Our little lives dwell in between, 
Encompassed by Thy love. 

No breathless quest can fathom Thee. 

We do not ask for reasons, 

Only confidence; 

Seek not for proofs, 

But meanings. 

Earth’s petty things all fade away 

Before the largeness of the thought of Thee. 

Vain our pursuit of answers, 

Our pursuit of Thee. 

Thou hast found us; 

We would rest in Thee. 

Hope with its heroism, 

Faith with its sweetness, 

Give us; 

Resignation with its beauty, 

And its strength. 

There is no life in isolation, 

No loneliness in Thee. 

O help us cling, and feel secure, 

While Thou dost clasp our hand. 

Breathe Thou Thy peace, Thy order sweet, 
Into our troubled souls; 

Thy Spirit give us fortitude. 

Recompose our strained emotions, 

Harmonize the discord of 
Our wayward and distracted lives; 

And may our strengthened powers vibrate with 
Thy world’s best harmonies. 

When hushed, composed, the strains 
Of daily tribulation, 

May strength be found in us 

For words of wisdom, deeds of love; 

Strength to return to noble work 


< 


274 


QUEST AND QUERY 


With all its toil, 

Knowing that, 

Completest occupation is no curse; 
That sorrow’s outcries are adventures 
To no distant God; 

No sad bereavement ever dwells apart 
From richest compensations 
To every soul, that ’mid its hardships 
Bravely sings. 


XVII 

Wise Magi come from far 
O’er heath and desert plain 
Led by a wondrous star 

To Bethlehem’s humble fane. 

Concurrence in the sky, 

Strange astral prodigy, 
Attracts the watchful eye 
Of priestly coterie, 

Who come with costly gifts, 

Rich offering to a child, 

Whose deity uplifts 

All souls by ill beguiled. 

Aged Melchior enters in 
And finds a sainted sage, 

Who dialogues on sin 
With experience of age. 

Then enters Balthasar, 

Stalwart in manhood’s prime, 
Obeisance makes from far 
With reverence sublime ; 

And marvels in surprise 
To find a manly king, 

Who soundly prophesies 
With seal of signet ring. 


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275 


Then boyish Caspar comes 
With bashful youth’s respect, 
And on his sling he thrums 
Unused to royal sect, 

And nervously he bows 
In deference to a youth, 

Who staging disallows, 

And talks of inner truth. 

At length all three approach 
Their presents to bestow, 

And find that they encroach 
Upon a cradle’s glow. 

In every age of time, 

In manhood’s every stage, 
Incarnate charisms chime 
And give their heritage. 

Hail! Mother of our Lord, 

Of earthly mothers queen, 
Held in supreme regard, 

By ages long foreseen. 

Sleep, Infant, in thy shrine, 

In dimpled babyhood, 

Within that soul of thine 
Slumbers God’s likelihood. 

While Syrian stars shall shine 
Sages from distant lands 
Shall come from many a clime 
To touch thy dimpled hands. 

Born lowly under law 
The lawless to redeem, 

Thy sacrifice shall draw 
Aspirant’s holiest dream. 

We read the serial tale 
In astral tapestries, 

In web of star and vale, 

In spheres’ soliloquies. 


276 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Trembling, I stand in awe 
Of infinites unplumbed, 

And faintly inference draw 
With baffled mind benumbed. 

Behind the fleeting rush 
Of primal elements, 

Whose rosy astral blush 
Our wonderment indents, 

The countless aeons shod 
With hieroglyphic hint 
Stamp a conserving God 
Upon the sky’s blue-print. 

Some moral purpose treads 
This ageless lofty path, 

Despite the ethic shreds 
Torn by atomic wrath. 

To be creative man 
Is potence limitless, 

Stout offspring of the clan 
Swaddled in reason’s dress. 

Let reasoned end be found 
Instead of aimless drift, 

The universe be bound 
By forces that uplift. 

To gain a cosmic world 
And lose its moral mind, 

Is to be rudely hurled 

Where preciousness is blind, 

Where ruthless sightless strength 
Goes blundering ’long a path, 
Which has circuitous length 
Around the mills of Gath. 

To interpret life as pelf 
Is to subserve the sod, 

To be a moral self 
Is next to being God. 


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277 


XVIII 

An all-embracing spirit-life 
Enfolds in silent mystery 
Our tremulous souls. Our little life 
Is touched by omnipresent space 
Replete with secret potencies. 

Unfathomed mysteries preside 
O’er spheres linked to infinity, 

A vastness that appalls. 


Awe is 

Man’s normal attitude, and fear, 

The fiber of his moral sense, 
God-consciousness, and caution’s curb. 
The fear of God! True wisdom, that! 
’Tis understanding’s infant step. 

The sense of the sublime is high 
And holy fear. To fear aright 
Is brave; a coward he, who boasts 
He never was afraid. To fear 
Aright is to escape from vaunts 
To consciousness of otherness 
More marvellous than lauded self. 

Absence of fear is absence of 
Imagination, which conceives 
The works of art. The soul that stands 
In awe of beauty, apprehends 
And fabricates the beautiful; 

To image well is to create. 

To fear aright is noble, fools, 

Give ear! not thus to fear is base. 

Bold disrespect: rude recklessness! 

Vain fearlessness: no bravery! 
Foolhardiness is virtueless. 


278 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Essential to the soul is fear, 

For admiration elevates. 

No fear: no reverence! no touch 
That wakes the.sense of the sublime! 

No reverence: no loftiness! 

No veneration’s thrill! no eye 

That sees! The soul that feels respect 

For the sublime is born again. 

Fear should not function to excess, 

But issue in the salient sense 
Of the sublime, the thought of God, 

The soul’s true moral Eminence. 

Colossal values swell the breast 
Of him who glimpses the Divine. 

The dainty bashfulness of youth, 

The graceful charm so delicate 
Of childhood’s meek timidity, 

Sweet shyness of the innocent, 

Are pinions giving flight to God; 

For unto you that fear my Name 
The Sun of Righteousness shall rise 
With generous healing in His wings. 

The charms so sweetly exquisite 
Of deference, and social fear, 

Are offspring of the reverent soul, 
Whose vibrant strings are touched by God. 

Fair nature owns vast hidden stores, 
Illimitable energies; 

Unbridled forces leap their bounds 
In lightning’s flash, in earthquake’s shock. 
We stand in awe; a wholesome fear. 

Here prudence has her normal birth, 

Our natural wisdom, safety first. 

The fear that is destructive of 

Our noble equanimity 

Inheres in ignorance and wrongs. 


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279 


Dark superstition’s numbing dread, 

The fright at ghastly accident, 

Blank terror of the hideous, 

The paralyzing horror at 
Unspeakable atrocity, 

Brutalities of brazen mien, 

Are diabolic, born of hell, 

The hell that shameless men create 
Through heinous lust and scorching hate. 
Expelled be these demonic fears, 
Monstrous confederates of sin. 

The liberal accomplice of 
Refining fear is spotless love, 

Accessory immaculate 

Of chaste sublimity. Love spurs, 

Love rectifies, gently refines 
The moral movement of the mind. 

Thus perfect love casts out base fears, 
Demonic denizens of hell. 

Let glowing eulogies acclaim 
The virtues of the aspiring life. 

No upturned face: no loftiness 
Of life! no ear for upward call: 

Then muteness of a scrubby soul! 

Be lifted up, my laggard soul; 

Sense the divine, the ecstatic real! 


Worship of God is value’s sense, 

The sense of worthship that’s divine, 
Obeisance of the wakeful soul 
To the ineffably sublime. 

Worship of God! the dynamo 
Of urgent dreams, the challenge of 
The beautiful, the mother of 
All art, the zeal of godliness! 


28 o 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Give homage, O my soul! bow down 
In reverential awe! extol 
By deferential apt eclat 
The fear of God, beginning of 
Celestial life, rebirth of man! 

The life that’s mutely Sabbathless, 

The eye blind to sublimity, 

The soul obtuse, full doltish to 
The morally magnificent, 

Reverts to stupid brutish state 
Of base insensibility. 

No Deity: then nought sublime! 

No awe: subservience to clay! 

The fool has said, there is no God. 

The aspiration loftiest 
Feels after God, the Infinite; 

The vision beatific, vast, 

Is to the suppliant upturned face. 

Let silence fill my sentient soul 
With lipless moral eulogy, 

Ecstatic, intimate acclaim! 

Most softly will I tread the halls 
Where Thy supernal Presence dwells; 

And put my hand upon my mouth 
Lest foolishness escape my lips. 

By our superfluous speaking, we 

Have silenced Thee, Thou whispering One. 

Be hushed, my soul! thy vigil tense! 

Faint are the holy echoes of 
The unseen Self-expressing God. 

Attention, soul! sense the Divine! 

Jehovah’s glory passes by, 

Divine effulgence fills the earth; 

The world is filled with beauty, which 
Dull-sentient souls are slow to see. 


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281 


Shy secrets of invisible things 
Disclose themselves to lovers of 
The beautiful. Beatified 
The scene: most reverent be the gaze! 
Beauty of holiness, the vision rare; 
Immaculate God made visible 
To reverent souls of visioned men! 

Be wistful of thy privilege, 

Thou ardent soul; susceptible 
Of likeness splendidly divine; 
Soul-sensitized for imaging 
The glory of the great Unseen! 

Look! lover of the beautiful; 

Seize the lover’s fadeless prize; 

Look! ere the fleeting vision dies! 

XIX 


Father, 

Thy Name be consecrate, 

Thy kingdom come, 

Thy will be done, 

As in heaven, so on earth. 

Our needful bread 
Give us day by day. 

Our sins forgive; 

For we ourselves also forgive. 
Into temptation bring us not; 
From evil, Lord, 

Deliver us. 

XX 

The avenue of godly fear 
Leads to enrichment of the soul. 

There is as well a virtuous realm 
Of fearlessness, for perfect love 
Casts out inane frustrating fear. 


282 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The sturdy hold of valiant man 
On life’s refined realities 
Clings to the saving good, and loves 
The beautiful that e’er resides 
In truth, in lofty moral principle. 

The conscience clear, convictions deep 
And purified, give steadfast grace 
To valorous man’s religious life. 

’Tis in this sphere of fearlessness 
Where dwelt the Man of Nazareth. 

Foreknowledge of his future goal, 

The consciousness of victory, 

And intervening weightiness 
Of his colossal agonies, 

Did not exclude a human soul, 

Nor banish natural fear from out 
His reasoning mind. Normal in full, 
And native, his psychology. 

Future contingencies of men 
Still curtained all finite results; 
Complexities of men’s desires, 

Latent potentialities, 

Men’s passions and proclivities, 

Left tangled still the twisted skein 
Of known, and the unknown, about 
Man’s individual destinies. 

The godly man of mind discreet, 

Well reasoning from experience, 

Knows that the truth at last will be 
Victorious. His foresight does 
But multiply the pain, seen in 
The useless strife ’gainst noble ends. 

Contingencies of human wills 
Give room for anxious moral fears. 
Unique, the Man of Nazareth 
Has yet a soul most sensitive, 

A soul that longs, and trembles in 


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283 


Its tenderness of generous hope 
For men. His will to victory 
Must brave all opposition to 
The holy means and methods of 
His firm unconquerable love. 

Undaunted by malignant threats, 
Confronting persecution’s flame, 

Man’s noble moral fearlessness 

Inevitably triumphs in 

The Armageddon of the world. 

Apostles of ephemeral worth, 

Who robe their Croesus as the Christ, 
Compute success in terms of earth. 
Magnificence of circumstance, 

Omnipotence of monied power, 

Obtain in lieu of Spirit-force. 

The man of Nazareth drives out 
The clamorous money changers from 
The desecrated temple court, 

While piffling preacher cozens in 
The dollar magnate to his fold 
To liquidate extravagance 
Of the luxurious worshipper. 

The organ tones so grandiose 

Repel the presence of the soiled 

And ill-clad throng, whose tongue can tell 

The throbbings of the hungry heart 

Alone in simple ballads of 

The longing soul. 

Come unto me, 

All ye that labor, laden down 
With burdens heavy to be borne, 

And I will rest you in the seat 
Of the repentant Publican, 

And harlot saved, whose erring love 

Regenerate, reveals a faith 

Which cleanses well the sin-stained soul. 


284 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Courageous Man of Nazareth! 

To walk and talk with rudest men, 

To save the lost, and give to heaven 
The song of earth-born sinners saved! 

Bold in assurance of the right, 

So absolute, of truth supreme, 

Of love, that makes the joy of heaven, 

He gifts with boons gratuitous 
The sinner now made God’s own son. 

Fearless we sit amid our books, 

Or walk upon the clouds, where dwell 
Ideals, which men fondly love, 

And deftly cogitate in peace. 

In the social world, where mind meets mind, 
And wills confront opposing wills, 

The flint of thought strikes fire; and from 
The flame of contradicting wills, 

The crucible of slag and ore, 

Flow courage, and screened cowardice. 

The puff of superficialness, 

The vanity of light-weight thought, 

The dross of character, flares first. 

O’er worth’s substratum, dumb, there strides 
The flaunting fearlessness of fools. 

Uncurbed ambition stirs the mind, 

Directs the operations of 

Man’s zeal, and rudely rules the will. 

Why let the marvellous exploit, 

The act magnificent, sparkle 
Alone in humble Galilee! 

Burst the provincial bonds, and go 
To famed Jerusalem, and there 
Display the glory of thy power. 

How apt the call to vaunt oneself 
In the name of public ministries! 

“I go not up unto this feast,” 

Exclaims the master of serene 
Propriety. 


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285 


And then, when all 
Are gone with pomp and empty show, 
Alone, and quietly he goes 
To mingle in the needy throng. 

There lies true courage well to do 
The right so rightfully, and quell 
The vanities that spoil good deeds. 

Who will combat the silly vain 
Conventional, the pride of fame! 

The fearless man alone will stand 
Athwart the path by millions trod, 
And say, the good is good alone 
When goodly done; the doing self 
Not end, but means to ministries. 

Officious minds assume the claim 
Of some inalienable right, 

Which to dispute is insolence. 

To question what has ever been 
Age-long unalterable rule 
Is deemed a show of impudence, 

Or ignorance to appreciate 
Magnificence become divine, 

A cultus ripened by the years. 

He who makes up his stalwart mind 
Courageously to give rebuke 
To ceremonial sanctity, 

Is looked upon askance. 

“Out of 

His mind,” his frightened family say. 
Within himself religion pure 
Holds sway; aloof, apologetical, 

They say, “He is beside himself. 

Courageous man firmly to grieve 
The tenderness of mother’s heart 
To buttress well the truth of a 
Religion pure and undefiled. 


286 


QUEST AND QUERY 


What soul would stand nobly serene 
Among compatriots and friends, 

Whose comrade wills so oft accord 
With what’s fraternally the right, 

And turn deaf ear to flatteries! 

Life’s full of moral dangers, and 
Replete with evils manifold; 

Death to the dutiful, and shame, 

The common goal of him who makes 
No compromise, and wills the cross. 

“No! this shall never be to thee,” 

Cry social intimates, to stay 
The sturdy valiant purpose of 
The Messianic hero, who 
Would save. 

Before an Annas, or 
A Caiaphas to stand in bold 
Adherence to the right, nor quail 
In presence of ecclesiasts, 

Whose power can crush ambition’s rights 
And hopes, is fearlessness sublime. 

When with soft words most voluble 
To explain away keen criticism 
Where peril menacingly lurks, 

The accused could scheme secure escape, 
He silent stands in calm contempt 
Of accusations virulent 
And false. 


Profounder man, he looks 
In pity on the coarse and rude 
Asseverating lies to bring 
About a verdict flagrantly 
Defiant of the truth. Thou Man, 

So fearless in the majesty 
Of right, thou Man of Nazareth. 


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287 


Not his the act obsequious 
To place his ear to earth to catch 
The sound of human grovellings; 

To go with the majorities, 

Where conscience willing goes to sleep, 

But where convictions say him, nay. 

Susceptible to fellowship, 

So wont is man to merge himself 
Into the sweet ascendency 
Of some communal thought that charms 
And dominates the company. 

The crowd-psychology attains 
Bold mastery of listless minds 
Incautiously swept with the throng 
Into a current shaped by some 
Astute emotional leadership. 

To stand alone amid the crowd 
As some opinionated churl, 

Declining quick allegiance to 

The easy-formed conclusions brought 

To mobile misconceiving men, 

Demands a self-composure like 
The Christ’s. Truth lies not ever with 
The multitude; nor people’s voice 
Unerringly the voice of God. 

Not easy is the penalty 
Of being right. Gethsemane 
Lies in the circle of our friends, 

Who sleep, when they should pray, who wield 
A sword, but injure innocence. 

To be alone in presence of 
Persuasive Pilate with his sly 
Evasive politics, and be 
A king of truth, defiant of 
The power over life and death 
Within the hands of maladroit 
Chicanery, is fearlessness 
Most masterful. 


288 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The regal claim 
To do the wrong is cowardice, 

Whose nemesis is swift decay, 

And unavoidable defeat. 

Time-serving men abbreviate 
Their rule, while resurrected truth 
Lives on, and its apostles reign. 

Fearless our captain came to teach 
Religion pure, the attitude 
Supreme the soul sustains to God, 

To all that God has made. Fearless 
We go to put in action brave 
That attitude so beautiful, 

And in the deed make ethics for 

The kingdom which our captain dreamed. 

Gird on thine armor then, my soul. 
Enveloped by the truth of God 
Thou sharest in life’s victory, 

Which truth is sure to win. Beware 
The formal devotee of creed, 

The cold religionist of rite, 

Expressionless of what the soul 
Warm feels, and knows to be the real. 

Go to, thou follower of dead 
Tradition’s trail; the Christ has gone 
Far, far before, and leads his own 
By his informing inner light, 

The Spirit leading into truth. 

Fearless we go accompanied 
Age-long by our forthgoing God, 

Whose light shines in the windows of 
The soul whose shutters open swing. 
Flood Thou our life with radiance, 

Thou residential Deity; 

For in Thy light shall we see light. 


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289 


XXI 

On some December’s gloomy day 
When chilling rain enchains the earth 
With icicles from winter’s breath, 

And trees, complaining, stiffly bow 
Obeisance to the cruel winds 
That lash with rueful liquid coils 
Which cling with a congealing clutch, 
The gloomy forest so forlorn, 

Enslaved by chains of frigidness, 

Groans in its fettered servitude. 

But just before the darksome day 
Glides sightless into sable gloom 
Of savage night, the storm relents, 

And in the western nimbus cloud 
A window opens in the sky, 

And through the rift the smiling sun 
Sheds forth an avalanche of light, 
Which floods the forest with a glow, 
Transforming icy fettering chains 
To glistening pennants crystal-fringed. 

So soothes the eve of drooping grief 
The late-born light that cheers thfe day, 
And makes earth’s sorrows harbingers 
Of rich sequences beautiful. 

XXII 

O God of lovingkindness, 

Thou Saviour from all ills, 

Thou givest sight for blindness, 

Thy truth all error stills. 

O Spirit, breathe tranquillity 

On all who fellowship with Thee. 

Thy worship is our pleasure, 

Thy praise our pure delight; 

Most merciful the measure 


290 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Of Thy prevailing might. 

Great Ruler of mankind, we own 
The clement firmness of Thy throne. 

The transport of our worship 
Convert to noble deed, 

And may Thy saving friendship 
Be more than verbal creed. 

O Saviour-God, our virtues brace, 

Effect in us responding grace. 

Our goods from Thee we borrow, 

Our gains with men we share; 

The hopes that lure the morrow 
Be satisfaction’s heir. 

O social Spirit, with us stay, 

Abide with us, humbly we pray. 

The dangers of the morrow, 

Dark doubts that dim the day, 

Sad weightiness of sorrow, 

The thought that goes astray,— 

O Saviour-Lord, dispel them all, 

To Thee we look, on Thee we call. 

And when the shadows lengthen, 

The sleep of death draws near, 

Do Thou our spirit strengthen, 

Dispel encroaching fear. 

O Saviour, banish mortal strife, 

And bless us with Thy boundless life. 

XXIII 

The pilgrim left the dim church aisle, 

While fainter grew the strains, erewhile, 
Of instrumental melody. 

His soul now clasped the master key 
Of notes divine. He felt the thrill 
Of Spirit-force to do the will, 

The works of God. 


THE QUEST FOR GOD 


291 


Doubts fainter grew, 
As faith took on the richer hue 
Of frank obedience, and trod 
The avenue that leads to God. 

Where man lives close to nature’s heart 
The village church stands just apart 
From the threshold of God’s acre, where 
Life’s rapid journey ends. Coheir 
With life is death, of all the wealth 
That makes for happiness and health. 

The pilgrim in the church yard nave 
Pauses to scan a little grave; 

And leaning on his bending staff 
He reads this simple epitaph: 

There is an image on my heart, 

An echo in my dream, 

A tender life that formed a part 
Of things that more than seem, 

A little face, a pattering tread, 

A joyous winsome form, 

That once my hungering feelings fed 
With rich affection’s charm. 

But heaven has claimed the life it gave, 

I yield a treasure more; 

To me is left a little grave, 

An earthy treasure store. 

XXIV 

And just across on marble scroll, 

Shaded by ivy’s aureole, 

By faint inscription, age-long old, 

This wide romance of youth is told: 

He sleeps. That heated brow aglow 
With fancied good, and saddened woe, 
An angel’s hand has touched, and o’er 
His mind grim shadows steal no more. 


292 


QUEST AND QUERY 


His life brought forth its blossoms fair, 

With promises of fruitage rare. 

The Reaper loved the blossoms more, 

And into brighter climes He bore 
The bruised stalk, with bud and flower, 

To ripen there. 

The teeming hour, 

The weary day, the flood of years, 

Shall onward roll, till disappears 
The granite stone that marks the spot, 

And name and merit are forgot. 

The leaflets whispering on the trees 

Shall downward glide on soughing breeze 
To clothe the tomb, whose inmate blest, 
Receives the blessing, “Spirit, rest.” 

XXV 

Impartial is the reaper, Death, 

Who filches every flower its breath. 

Near by, soft-nestling in the vines, 

Breathe forth these sighing slumbrous lines: 

Fair child of promise, born for love, 
Achievement lures to loves above; 

While o’er earth’s hopes dark shadows creep, 
Sleep, Adele, sleep! 

The music of thy service choice, 

The echoes of thy gleeful voice, 

Lie smothered in a silence deep; 

Sleep, Adele, sleep! 

The valiant throng of noble youths, 
Foundation strong for freedom’s truths, 
Thou too hast joined thy tryst to keep; 

Sleep, Adele, sleep! 


THE QUEST FOR GOD 


293 


While maidens chant their lulliloo, 

And o’er thy bed their garlands strew, 
While angel bands their vigil keep; 

Sleep, Adele, sleep! 

Unsullied emblem of repose, 

Perennial blooms the thornless rose; 

So, undisturbed by tears we weep, 

Sleep, Adele, sleep! 

XXVI 

Life’s one whole piece of artifice, 

To dwell on fragments is to miss 
The symphony. Time’s but the start 
Of life’s prolonged completing art. 

The human sense of harmony 
Is incomplete, extempore, 

Not studied part. Eternity 

Is reached by deeps of boundless sea; 
From transport to sad threnody 
God gives a cue in minor key. 

The chant is His; not His alone; 

We hear the song, and catch the tone 
Of melody. God strikes the chord, 

Of tremulous lives He is the Lord. 

’Mid this reflection comes the swell 
Of organ tones, and funeral knell. 
Another soul has put to sea, 

A traveller to eternity. 

XXVII 

In Flanders fields the poppies blow, 

And gleam to glorify the row 
Of crosses unforgotten, so 
Forever shall the poppies grow 
In Flanders fields. 


294 


QUEST AND QUERY 


You are not dead. As sunset’s glow 
Hallows the fields, your tombs bestow 
The fadeless memories that go 
To sanctify life here below, 

Which freedom yields. 

You love, and still are loved below, 

Your crosses through the ages throw 
Supreme defiance to the foe; 

We grasp the torch, avenge the woe 
Of Flanders fields. 

No faith we break with those who die 
To set earth’s values firm on high. 

So, calmly sleep, and sanctify 
The winds that blow ’neath freedom’s sky 
From Flanders fields. 

XXVIII 

Comes earth’s rebirth by horror’s shock! 

For freedom must the free-born die! 

I press my face against the rock, 

Jehovah’s glory passes by. 


CANTO XIII 


IN THE SHADOWS 

I 

Thou God, eternal and supreme, 

Thy nature, blessed, knows no grief; 

Our days are transient as a dream, 

And death, our sorrows’ last relief. 

Thy mind no fancy can coerce, 

Thy movement no caprice compel; 

Uncertainties our thoughts immerse, 

In flesh our mortal powers dwell. 

But Thou art Spirit, boundless, free, 
Impeded by no earthy clod; 

Thou plan’st for us like destiny, 

Through transient troubles back to God. 

Through all earth’s troublous things that seem, 
Unseen, Thy glory passes by. 

Our sorrows truly are a dream, 

In blind distress we sob and sigh. 

O give us vision wide and clear, 

Thy vast intention to embrace, 

Open our heavy ears to hear 

The soothing whispers of Thy grace. 

Substantial are the spirit-joys 

That lie beyond our brief distress; 

Paltry the hurts Thy grace employs 
To lead us to our blessedness. 

295 


296 


QUEST AND QUERY 


What godly boons our souls can harm! 

Our transient tears but playful price; 
The sable griefs that clothe the form, 
Ascension robes to paradise. 

How wide the measure of our bliss! 

Munificent Thy matchless grace! 

Who dreams of happier home than this: 
Thyself our boundless dwelling place. 

When Thou the silver cord shalt loose, 
The bowl lie broken in the dust, 

I yield my shattered frame’s disuse 
In calm commitment to Thy trust. 

Felicitous the fervent hope, 

Thou dost my fadeless powers keep; 

To wake with wider vision’s scope, 

I lay me down in peace to sleep. 

II 

Be still, and hear the voice of God; 

His softest whisper is distinct 
To listening ear of spirit-born. 

In patience wait His call. Fret not 
Thyself when grief’s penumbra sweeps 
Across thy path; the sun is cause 
And transient is the barrier. 

In mercy plenteous is the Lord, 

His lovingkindness better far 
Than life. 

To be apart from God 
Is second death. Affliction’s rod 
Held by His hand is godly stroke. 

The blow that smites in discipline, 
Judicial cure, which justice gives, 

Is language of God’s holy love. 

The sting that hurts is sin; rebel, 

And God’s embrace is deemed a blow. 


IN THE SHADOWS 


297 


How precious are God’s thoughts of us! 
How great the sum of them! Who knows 
His mind, His purposes profound! 

His footsteps tread the troubled sea, 

His path is in the waters deep, 

His footprints none may trace. 

The tempest’s breath at His command 
Expires, and watery mountains fall 
As mist at His pacific feet; 

While in the cloud His form is dim. 

Ill 

In the midst of life we are in death. 

The bud, the blossom, and the fruit, 

Then comes decay. On every hand 
We see but transitory life, 

The brevity of temporals. 

All things are in the making, and 
When made, pass on to newer things. 

He who began to do and teach 
Continues His accomplishment. 

Our fervent hopes unrealized, 

Our dreams and visions unfulfilled, 

Are just retarded, not annulled. 

Existence does not end with death, 

Nor opportunity expire. 

God’s not unfeeling to forget 
His children’s lives, for He hath set 
Eternity within our heart. 

Our sorrows we interpret in 
The terms of finite self, and not 
In terms of God. We should escape 
The little narrow circle of 
Our private griefs, and move within 
God’s wider circle, in the realm 
That girds the world’s tranquillity. 


298 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Too narrow is our scheme; we’re made 
Or marred by the ideals which 
We frame, to which we acquiesce. 

We rest content and unabashed 
Amid the pandemonium 
Of moral life; view with alarm 
The perturbation of our plans, 

When sudden loss, decay, and death, 
As friendly circumstances, link 
To join the provenance of God 
To man’s progressive perfecting. 

With self-undoing full content 
We weep when sudden rupture of 
Our mimic happiness dispels 
The dream; while over all God rules. 

To constitute a balanced world 
Sequence must follow natural cause. 
God daily intervenes in life 
To make events most equable. 

Not by some sudden cataclysm 
Is He insurgent in affairs. 

His law insinuates its claims 
To rectify blind error’s ways. 

We in our sorrows form a part 
Of God’s communicating life. 

God has a special providence, 

But not for mere indulgent ends. 

IV 

Death comes not always with a plunge 
To wrest the strength of sturdy man; 
Irrevocable its approach 
From dawn to feeble twilight hour 
To all the heedless, waning world, 


IN THE SHADOWS 


299 


As gradual process, steady, sure. 

The dimmer eye, the duller ear, 

Soft, chestnut hair slow-turning grey, 
Announce that death is on its way. 

The old conveyance of the soul 
Collapses at the threshold, where 
The spirit deftly wings its flight 
To loftier realms. New vehicles 
Convey the soul. 


The will to live 
Is broken by life’s weighty strain 
On man’s frail earthy palanquin. 

Our real life is all unseen, 

Our bodily frame a transient means 
To train the germinating mind, 

The disposition of the soul, 

In perfect adaptation to 
Realities invisible. 

All things are born and framed to die; 
And death, the separation of 
The self from outworn artifice, 

From instrument grown obsolete. 

Each his own death must die alone, 
Alone must enter unknown spheres, 
Make proof of things intangible. 

The adult man’s career must end, 

The earthly good which he has won 
By patient toil, and pain, he now 
Must abdicate. Yet in the sad 
Relinquishment a higher good 
Is found impressed upon his soul, 

A good which he both keeps and gives, 
His own intrinsic self, and means 
Of others’ hope and worthiness. 


QUEST AND QUERY 


His tasks assumed by others’ hands 
Shall find diverse accomplishment 
By methods new to meet and fill 
An ever changing world of things, 
By less and more of finite skill 
To swell the volume of the tide, 
The fluent stream of labored life. 

The world moves on with heavy feet, 
And yet not aimless in its tread. 

The pleasing facile beautiful 
In life is soon displaced by forms 
Of beauty difficult for man 
To valuate. 


The dainty charm 
Of dimpled infancy, the grace 
Of captivating maidenhood, 

The lithe and handsome youth so fleet 
Of foot, and muscular in form,— 

All yield the youthful exquisite 
For more substantial quality, 

The wisdom of maturity, 

The fulness of the cultured soul. 

Death lifts the burden, gives release 
To spirit attributes, inducts 
The graduated soul into 
Environment felicitous, 

Where beauty is the attribute 
Both of external life, and man’s 
Transparent personality. 

V 

Oft first to reach the goal of time 
Is swift aspiring youth. Not years 
Construct a life, but content rich, 
Replete, the secret realized. 


IN THE SHADOWS 


301 


Youth is the vestibule of life; 

Old age, the exit from the stage. 

Through ecstasy to reasoned thought 
Our days glide by in steady flow. 

Not for all men, long labored life, 

Nor fruits that come by weary toil; 

’Tis not for all such sturdy health 
As gives endurance seasoned long. 

Heredity’s insidious strain, 

Sin’s blighting frost at early spring, 

The fatal sting of error’s choice, 

Insinuate their subtle harm, 

And early ripe the first fruit falls, 

As timely end. 

To relish life, 

We feed on passion’s transport, and 
The ecstasies of rich delights, 

Which leave a cureless sting, and speed 
The consummation of our years. 

Through ecstasy and threnody 
The soul ascends to heavenly things. 

The mournful strains which mortals breathe, 
Like soughing winds before the dawn, 

Attain a final harmony; 

The accidents of life are steps, 

Brief semi-tones to symphony. 

The sprightly step of youth along 
Life’s winsome winding path bedecked 
With moss, and springtime’s fragrant blooms, 
Soon echoes ’mid the fallen leaves. 

VI 

Lord of earth’s Gethsemane, 

Heavily our sorrows weigh, 

Faint our hearts, and bowed with woe, 

See the pain we undergo! 


302 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Kindly, Father, from above 

Look upon our woes with love, 

Keen the pangs our feelings shun, 

See the hurt that death has done! 

Suffering Servant, Son of God, 

Thou hast felt the chastening rod; 

Thou who shed’st the anguished tear, 

Jesus, Son of Mary, hear! 

Spirit, calm our troubled breast, 

Give our hearts Thy tranquil rest, 

Soothe the sense of loneliness, 

Heal our sorrow’s sore distress. 

VII 

Thou God of truth, unselfish in Thy wealth 
Of attributes, which constitute Thy worth, 

Our right relation to all things is health, 

Our attitude of faith to Thee, our birth. 

Born in and for the truth, which is Thyself, 

We give ourselves to Thee, to get in turn 
Both self and Thee, full life beyond all pelf; 

Thy grace achieve, Thy faultless plans discern. 

Thy presence, Lord, can none by flight evade, 

To us it means Thine omnipresent care; 

With single span Thou measurest Thy heavens 
made, 

But Thine whole arm Thou tak’st one lamb to 
bear. 

No place, condition, time or sphere, beyond 
The scope of Thy discriminating eye; 

No prayerful life, encompassed by Thy bond 
Of love, can e’er outside that vision lie. 

Great stars Thy boundless habitation gem, 

The suns that light unfathomed mystery; 

Thy brilliant coronal of diadem 

Embraces all Thy workmanship, and me. 


IN THE SHADOWS 


303 


VIII 

Daylight’s weary, star-beams whisper, 
Long ago the world began, 

Ages hymn their evening vesper, 
Sleep, sleep, sleep little man! 

Hush, my babe! thy life is care-free, 
Mother’s love is e’er intent, 

Soon, too soon, anxiety 

Turns life’s leisure to lament. 

Fast, too fast, flee hours of slumber, 
Weary labor tarries long, 

Vexing cares our days encumber, 
Lengthened be our mood of song. 

Day is over, daylight’s weary, 

Long ago the world began, 

Comes the morrow bright or dreary, 
Sleep, sleep, sleep little man! 

Old and older grow the faces 

Where child’s dimple once reposed, 
Wide and wider grow time’s spaces 
With pale memory interposed. 

Fleet of foot comes the to-morrow, 

At the eve the flower has sped, 
Waking men o’er temporals sorrow, 
Long the time the rose is dead. 

Long the past, and long the future, 
Just the present is our span, 

Of unknowns we are the suture, 

Only borders we may scan. 

Day is over, star-beams whisper, 

Long ago the world began, 

Ages chant their evening vesper, 

Sleep, sleep, sleep little man! 


304 


QUEST AND QUERY 

IX 

How sweet again to be a child, 

To live by impulse, held 

In wise constraint from action wild, 

By rule, as yet unspelled. 

Authority is childhood’s trust, 

Nor asks the reason why; 

Though oft self-will repels the must, 

Yet soon the cheeks are dry. 

When Jesus awoke from sleep alone, 
Would he then softly cry? 

I know that he, when man full-grown, 
Did sometimes deeply sigh. 

And was there a touch of infant delight 
When Jesus discovered his ears? 

If ever a thrill were turned into fright, 
Profuse were his cheeks with tears? 

Not always may I be a child 
By gentle pressure ruled, 

Nor held in check, coercion mild, 

By hand from passion cooled. 

From child to man life’s pathway goes, 

I must my vision see; 

As blossom into ripeness grows, 

Change must my portion be. 

’Tis vain to wish, by labor pained, 
Children to be again, 

The state would be, if once attained, 
Sophisticated men. 

X 

We loose the shoes from off our feet 
At the remembrance of a mother. 

The charm of sweet maternity, 

The precious care of infancy, 


IN THE SHADOWS 


305 


Love’s kindness done so graciously, 

Are memories of a mother: 

Her tenderness they nobly greet 
Who rise and call her blessed. 

She soothes the sob of childhood’s grief, 
And fills with hope the morrow; 

She hushes dread, bids fear be still, 
And hallows dreams by banished ill, 

By tears she breaks the stubborn will, 
Her gifts subdue child-sorrow: 

They crown her life with golden sheaf 
Who rise and call her blessed. 

When in misfortune, shame, or scorn, 
Where no man is a brother, 

Life’s circumstance with mishap teems, 
And penury assumes extremes, 
Through all vicissitudes, there beams 
The unfailing love of mother: 

Her fadeless memory they adorn 
Who rise and call her blessed. 

Her lamp of service ne’er goes out, 

No clouds her brilliance cover, 
Intuitive intelligence! 

The daughter’s guide to excellence, 
Service exceeding recompense, 

The priceless work of mother! 

They render homage apt, devout, 

Who rise and call her blessed. 

Excelling charm of motherhood, 

Of greater grace no other! 

The Son of God, great mystery’s awe, 
Was born of woman, under law; 
Love’s incarnation long foresaw 
The hallowed name of mother: 

A name by all men understood 
Who rise and call her blessed. 


306 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Take off thy shoes from off thy feet, 

For here the angels hover, 

Where silvered tresses, glory’s crown, 
The halo-light from heaven come down, 
Proclaim devotion of renown 
Greater than maid or lover: 

A mother’s fame they nobly greet 
Who rise and call her blessed. 

XI 

Transition sweet, when fading powers 
With gentle grace pass silently 
To the invisible. 

’Tis birth 

To life felicitous and free. 

Imaginations of the wise, 

Inventions of voluptuous thought, 
Perpetually make the attempt 
To explain away the thing that’s real, 
Man’s necessary transiency, 

His frail impermanence. 

The good 

In hope serenely acquiesce 
In expectation of life’s fruit 
Maturing in an atmosphere 
Of culture limitless and pure, 

God’s sunny realm of cloudless cheer. 

XII 

A living soul, with mortal breath, 

Comes, breathes, thinks, feels, and then is 
death. 

And we this strange and fitful dream 
Call life, which is of life’s great stream 
A ripple small, or reflection’s beam 
From that eternal Light sublime 
Of which life’s spark is but a mime. 


IN THE SHADOWS 


307 


Is life but actions’ narrative, 

A tale of deeds diminutive? 

Does deathless spirit interlink 
Its ageless vigor with a wink 
Of mortal potencies which sink 
Into oblivion? Does soul 
But play a fleeting temporal role? 

Is ethic’s gleam but sentiment, 

Utility’s mere complement, 

Mere glebe with flickering notions blent! 
Are things the sole perpetual, 

And thought, life’s fleeting annual; 

Deeds come by fate necessitous, 

Goodness, just for the credulous, 

A sentimental overplus! 

Though man be judged by fateful deeds, 
Are not his thoughts real action’s seeds? 
Shall man be judged by overt act, 

When thought redeemed, becomes exact, 
And naught its virtue may detract, 

Save some fleet deed by seductive power 
Wrought out in some emotional hour? 

And yet, how far may upright thought 
From rectitude’s true path be brought, 
Until emotion’s power control 
The action of unwatchful soul ? 

May human value miss its goal 
By one deflection in its course, 

And rouse a deathless grim remorse? 

Pale reason from ideal grounds 
With formal ethics oft confounds 
Man’s common morals in despair, 
Involves in ceremonial lair 
His deeds; in mien so debonair 
Denies emotion’s natural right 
With its ephemeral delight. 


308 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Cognition builds ideal spheres, 

And says, this life which real appears 
Exists subjectively as thought; 

And all man’s hopes and fears are naught 
But phantoms out of fancy wrought; 

So that our life is but a dream, 

Which ne’er wakes up from things that seem. 

Philosophy of feeling smiles 
At thought, which real life beguiles, 

And laughs to scorn the subtle thread 
Of finite thought with logic fed, 

Which to the thought of life is led 
By doubting all, and thus denies 
The valid thought it deifies. 

Materialism a world reveals 
Composed of what sensation feels; 

What hand can grasp, and eye behold, 
Sensation test, and force unfold 
By energy most firm and bold,— 

This constitutes life’s real part 
Whose cosmic bloom is temporal art. 

Are spirit-potencies less real 
Than what our tactile senses feel? 

Of life are values not a share, 

That banish to a desert bare 
The fertile seeds of cumbering care, 

That foster hope, and conquer fear, 

And crown our pulsing life with cheer? 

Emotion forms the joyous part 
Of thoughts that humanize the heart, 

And gives to life its ecstasy, 

And to imagination free 
The power of charming fantasy, 

And weaves with thought a thread of gold 
Uniting soul with material mould. 


IN THE SHADOWS 


309 


For he who ne’er has deeply felt, 

Whose heart in grief can never melt, 
Has truly never deeply thought. 

Majestic deeds are stately wrought 
When sympathy impels the ought; 
Emotion’s tendrils twine around 
The thought that’s healthfully profound. 

Earth’s finer motion is unseen, 

And potencies of wondrous mien, 
Infinitary, tremble in 
The delicacy of their spin, 

Whence visibles have origin. 

The music of revolving spheres 
Trembles into a mist of tears. 

Emotion of world elements 
All earthly palpables indents; 

From thought material things arise, 

All matter moves ’neath azure skies, 

All sensuous substance is disguise 
Of vital forces on the wing, 

Of metamorphosed thought to thing. 

The ether trembles into mist, 

Electric tempest gives the twist, 

And star-dust whirls in lucid spray 
And luminous builds the Milky Way, 
’Long which light travels to its day. 

The limpid thought, the will of God, 
Evolves the worlds that life has trod. 

We feel the emotional force of life 
In which all potencies are rife; 

And from deep feeling thoughts arise 
Which of existence real apprise, 

And hint that under nature lies 
Unfathomed silent potency, 

Suggesting primal deity. 


3 io 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The cup of life would be overfull, 

And naught be left of the fanciful, 

If human reason could attain 
To all it gladly would explain. 

The wonderful would grow profane, 

Life’s deeps but shallows would become, 

Could man explain by rule of thumb. 

The powers of thought in humankind 
Are typical of the infinite Mind; 

The forms of beauty on the face 
Of nature in her silent grace, 

Which clothe the world, embellish space, 

Are raiment of the thoughts of God, 

Who condescends to indwell the clod. 

Man cannot scale sublimity, 

Nor comprehend infinity. 

His feeble steps fail to attend 
Unmeasured strides that far transcend 
His humble gait. Let wings befriend, 

Poetic measure span the chasm 

Which finite thought may never fathom. 

’Tis this that makes life beautiful, 

The childlike mood, sense dutiful, 

The cherub-peep above the screen 
That separates the deep unseen, 

The peep that spies the tree tops green, 

That overlooks the muddy sloughs 

Whence spring those graceful beckoning boughs. 

The wholesome soul that sees things bright 
Adds its own luster to the light. 

Dark shadows vainly intervene, 

As stumbling barriers, between 
The gladsome life and the unseen. 

’Tis morbid morals, shadowed soul, 

That dreads the veiled immortal goal. 


IN THE SHADOWS 


3i i 


XIII 

In a little churchyard 
Where grasses grow tall, 

In a tangle of roses 
Is a gravestone small. 

The breath of the summer 
Is sweet at the spot 
Where eglantines cluster 
In a thorn-twined knot, 

Where the butterfly pauses 
So soft on the wing 
’Long the path where the tendrils 
Of cinquefoil cling. 

A little white chapel 
Casts shadows across 
A deeper pathway 

Of dew-sprinkled moss, 

That leads from the turnstile 
At the side of the church 
To the old slanting markers 
Where lingering search 

Discovers the letters, 

All weathered with mould, 
That spell the inscription 
In scrolls quaint and old. 

A footpath adjacent 

With periwinkle o’erspread, 

A blue-flowered carpet 
So soft to the tread, 

Allures the slow stroller 
To silence of thought, 

Like the years that are muffled, 
Or the past that’s forgot. 


312 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Along the soft pathway 
In a dream of the past, 

With memories that travel 
Rehearsingly fast, 

There wanders a searcher, 
Grey-tinged by the years, 

To turn back the pages 

That are stained by life’s tears. 

His thoughts were retreating 
To the days gone by, 

To scenes of his boyhood 
Where memories pry, 

To the distant schoolhouse 
On the beech-wooded hill, 
Surrounded by lumber 
From the old sawmill. 

Recollections of playmates 
At the school recess 
Like pale passing shadows 
Made faintest impress, 

But the remembrance more vivid 
Of the old spelling bee 
At the end of the school year, 
Which gave the degree, 

Embraced a vague vision 
Of a maiden’s face fair, 
Whose graces so winsome 
Youth’s affections ensnare. 

At the close of the session 
Through the cloak-vestibule 
Enfiladed the lassies 

On their way out of school, 


IN THE SHADOWS 


3i3 


And around the dim doorway 
The lads in a file 
Awaited concurrence 
Of escort and smile. 

When down from the doorstep 
With sweet debonair 
Came the damsel so lovely, 

Soon destined to pair, 

With boldness of valor 
A big burly boy 
Preceded the proffer 
Of another too coy. 

The defeated ambition 

Of the youth that was coy 
Urged wider environ 
His gifts to employ. 

After worthy attainment 
Of cultural aim, 

And eminent annals 
Of laudable name, 

There wanders a searcher, 
Grey-tinged by the years, 

To turn back the pages 

That are stained by life’s tears. 

In a little churchyard 
Where grasses grow tall, 

In a tangle of roses 
Is a gravestone small, 

That bears the inscription 
Of the maiden so fair, 

Who in first motherhood 
With her babe lies there. 


314 


QUEST AND QUERY 


And later, adjacent, 

The once burly boy 
Of properties manly, 

Which passions destroy. 

What pure compensation 
In the silent unknown 
Takes the place of the fortune 
Here on earth that is grown? 

What sadness is added 

To the life that’s misspent, 

That is punished by briefness 
Of the time that is lent? 

On earth there are pathways 
That are soft to the tread, 

And years of achievement 
With happiness wed, 

Which lure the slow stroller 
To silence of thought, 

Like the future that’s muffled, 

Or the past that’s forgot, 

While the butterfly pauses, 

So soft on the wing, 

And sips of the nectar 
Exclusive of sting. 

XIV 

O Thou, who Love eternal art, 

We tremble in our helplessness. 

But Thou art Love! most graciously 
Wilt Thou our destiny decide, 

And gently disentangle from 
Mortality our doom; from faults 
And sad defects of time redeem. 


IN THE SHADOWS 


3 i 5 


Thou art our constant Stay in change, 

In sorrow, consolation’s Balm; 

Our Light in darkness, in our sense 
Of sore bereavement, and of loss, 

A firm Possession, fadelessly 
Secure. Illume the shadowed path 
Of life’s dark mystery; star-beams 
Transmit through dusky skies. 

From plumbless depths of life’s age-long 
Inscrutable, from gropings in 
Uncertainty, we long to rise 
To vision clear, to restful sphere 
Of firm indubitable faith. 

From our faint hope fain would we pass 
To assurance bold; from honest doubt, 
To robust confidence; from vague 
Opinions ineffectual, 

To stalwart certainties. Conduct 
Us to enduring blessedness. 

O have us not forever stare 
At the inscrutable; disclose 
The depths, infinity illume, 

That we may reach Thy dwelling place. 

Feeble companions of Thy love, 

We long to know Thee as Thou art; 
And while we in the shadows wait, 
Make us Thine heirs, sons of Thy love. 

XV 

The wall is thin, our filmy eyes 
Obscure the vision of the skies. 

We long to pierce the azure deep, 
Where mansions their rich treasures keep, 
Where satisfaction is profound. 

Perfume by alabaster bound 
Awaits release. 

Shatter the clay! 

Set free the soul to cloudless day! 


CANTO XIV 


IN THE HEIGHTS 

I 

No limit to ages 
No margin to space, 

Pursuit without progress, 
No goal for the race! 

Creation eternal, 

First matter, or mind? 

Intention supernal, 

Or drift that is blind? 

No mind without matter, 
No force without law, 

The tiniest substance 
Has power to draw. 

A thought posits data 
As old as the mind, 

No first in the process, 
Coeternal in kind. 

Transcendent the artist, 

But immanent power, 

That works from within 
Engenders the flower. 

Fair nature’s a poem, 

Life’s more than a guess, 

Great thoughts are creative, 
With facts coalesce. 

316 


IN THE HEIGHTS 


3i7 


The Cause immanental 
Works not from without, 

From within are dynamic 
The tendrils that sprout. 

The mind has objective, 

To will is to be, 

Subjective is contrast, 

Or all is at sea. 

No first in creation, 

Both matter and mind; 

Eternal conspiracy, 

No before nor behind. 

Be it God, or an atom, 

Man posits in thought, 

The subject and object 
Together are wrought. 

God’s thoughts are great actions, 
No dreaming of deed, 

His deep cogitations 
Great entities breed. 

With infinite Reason 

Dwells confederate Form, 

This absentee colleague 
Would His being disarm. 

Coeval concurrence 

Of substance and thought 
Yields finite expression 
To life’s polyglot. 

Creation’s deistic, 

An immanent grace 
Impulsive gives nature 
A beautiful face. 


QUEST AND QUERY 


318 


The high and the lowly 
Forever are one, 

Position is central 
For life’s myrmidon. 

For matter is mystic 
As manifest mind, 

The mind is the kernel, 
The matter is rind. 

II 

The blackness of darkness, 
The infinite deep, 

Where not e’en a shadow 
O’er expanses may creep! 

Infinitude empty, 

The zero of life, 

Where nothing’s forever, 
And negation is rife! 

Eternity’s compass, 

The immeasurably vast, 
Where absentee absence 
By the void is surpassed! 

Immensity’s pressure, 

The friction of space, 

A tremor of ether, 

The token of place! 

Ethereal motion, 

A spark in the void, 

A local emotion, 

An infant spheroid! 

Eternity trembles, 

Shakes off dateless dust; 
Infinity sparkles 
With luminous rust. 


IN THE HEIGHTS 


3i9 


Cohesive electrons, 

Life’s opening door, 

A flash of pent crimson, 
Emotion’s encore! 

Electric commotion, 

An asteroid dance, 

A star-dust convention, 

Light dots the expanse. 

Soliloquy timeless 

Bold spake, and ’twas done, 
In colloquy chronicles 
Then measured day one. 

Faint trembling of forces, 
Insensible thrill, 

Affinities cluster 

Without dream of free will. 

A stream of hot gases, 

An atom of ore, 

Precipitate vital 
A universe core! 

A focus of flash-light, 

A polarized ray, 

Revolutions of systems, 

A night and a day! 

A ring of bright atoms, 

A loitering stroll, 

Cool twist of contraction, 

An orbit of bole! 

The dews of the nightfall, 

An atmosphere’s grace, 

And tendrils of mosses 
The rocks interlace. 


320 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Disintegrate granite, 

Alluvial soil, 

The march of the glacier, 

Vast ages of toil, 

And forests adumbral, 
Submersions and coal, 
Condensed under pressure 
With diamond as dole! 

Huge flowers, grand colors, 
Bespangled bouquet, 
Deep-fronded with fern leaves; 
A world’s holiday! 

A concourse of beauty 
Long ages fulfil, 

Salubrious seasons 
Await the until. 

Ill 

Provocative concept, 

A feelingless realm, 

No ear for the music, 

No eye for the film! 

There dawns a new era 
Evolving from time, 

Prolific of pleasure, 

Productive of crime. 

Emotions ecstatic 

Shall hurtle the soul, 

A conscious endeavor 
Suggest a new goal. 

Farewell the fantastic, 

Atomic free love, 

The chemical passion 
Cohesive above, 


IN THE HEIGHTS 


33i 


The embraces of nature, 
Magnetic delights, 

The nuptial affections 
In the luminous heights, 

The dance of the atoms, 

The polarized thrill, 

Till mentality’s texture 
The gyrations fulfil. 

Farewell to romances, 

The music of spheres, 
Where life is insensate, 

Nor grief interferes. 

Where conscious life’s pleasure 
In exquisite strain, 

There dwells its accomplice, 
Ineffable pain. 

Ecstatic reflection 
On virtues within! 

The pondering principle 
To God is akin. 

From the depths to the heights 
By shuttled ascent, 

To values supernal 
Is destiny’s bent. 

IV 

The many winters’ snow 
Shall chill the sleeping soil, 
The tenderest beauties grow 
Out of earth’s chillest foil. 

We sleep, we wake, we rise 
To newer aims and joys, 

While things are but disguise, 
Earth’s tenure tiresome toys. 


322 


QUEST AND QUERY 


In others’ love to live 
Importunate in grace, 

Is thrilling narrative, 

Which ages ne’er efface. 

From out our souls we give 
What love regards most rare, 
’Tis life’s prerogative 
Its nobleness to share. 

V 

There’s something that’s haunting 
The shadow-chased soul, 

Strange instincts that hinder 
Its leap to the goal. 

The highway to heaven 
Is bordered by wrecks, 

By ruins of dogma, 

By moral defects. 

There’s something to live for, 
There’s much to forsake; 

The truth will await man, 

God’s mercy o’ertake. 

Some sins are but scarecrows, 

Kind angels disguised, 

Ambition is noble 

Self-seeking chastized. 

The garments of meanness 
May open as wings, 
Environment widen 
To loftier things. 

There’s likeness to godhood, 
Humanity feels, 

The morals of angels 

Quite close at man’s heels. 


IN THE HEIGHTS 


323 


From out of the waters 
Comes Neptune alway, 

From out of the sea foam 
Life’s Venus-matinee. 

No moonlight to glimmer, 

No starlight to gleam, 

Till eyes are directed, 

And sentiments dream. 

From a satellite’s surface 
The moonbeams play, 

A thought-linking ladder 
Is the Milky Way. 

VI 

The mind’s worthy impulse 
Is to know the yet more, 

To upright inquiry 
Ajar stands the door. 

Adventure respectful 
Into nature’s vast realm 
Finds affable boatman 
To handle the helm. 

Conventional dogma 
Forbiddingly bars 
The adventurous thinker 
Who would sail by the stars. 

Diversified features 
Invest profound ken, 

Most futile are fagots 
For differing men. 

Love’s kindly propulsion, 

Man’s fellowship state, 

Is arbitrament better 
Than heresy’s prate. 


3 2 4 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Putting teeth into contracts 
Transgression to bar, 

Is dentistry skilful 

For the grim dogs of war. 

The shouts of compulsion, 
Apostles of force, 

Are blind to the values 
Of life’s refined course. 

Insistent endeavor 
To dishonor God 
Finds inner requital, 
Self-chastening rod. 

Dishonor’s indenture 
Is stamped on the soul, 
Vindictive transgression 
Attains innate goal. 

The universe fosters 
All else and the self, 
Undermining of goodness 
Shall dig its own delf. 

VII 

Telepathy lingual 
To susceptible key 
Expresses God’s message 
Across obscure sea. 

Has the godlike in manhood, 
The divine, gone wrong! 
Is God chanting backward, 
Or His movement a song? 

Has God made some blunder 
In planning His sphere, 
Whose echoes forever 
The ages shall jeer! 


IN THE HEIGHTS 


325 


Where the smoke and the torment 
Commingle the years, 

And the harvest completed 
Is mingled with tears! 

Did He patch a rent garment 
With blood-scarlet cloth, 

By adroit indirection 
Repair fractured troth! 

The deeds of Creator 

Are trademarks of His soul; 
Lost maritime venture 
Makes God’s sea a shoal. 

Man’s view of God’s method 
Belittles His fame, 

When God’s dim prevision 
Reflects on His name. 

Man follows his leading 
In faint counterpoint, 

The divine that is pleading 
Life’s goings anoint. 

Celestial the pathway 
The ages have trod, 

The footprints of method 
Are biographic of God. 

VIII 

The love that clustered well 
Primeval harmonies, 

Now harbors in the cell 
Of personalities. 

The arts that congregate 
To nurse the soul’s welfare, 

Are courteous maids of state 
To heaven’s ascending stair. 


326 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Life’s endless resonance 
God echoes down the years, 

And robes with consonance 
His growing moral peers. 

With spiritual sonship’s glance 
Man sees his fashioning God, 
Perceives his own advance 
Through melting garb of clod. 

IX 

All life is commotion, 

And back of the form 
Is wondrous vibration 
Of nature’s strong arm, 

Ecstatic emotion, 

The octaves of sound, 
Vibrations most chordal 
Where senses rebound. 

The most gorgeous colors 
Of exquisite hue 
Are the dance of light-waves, 
Ballet’s retinue. 

Between the swift movement 
Of audible sound, 

And the fleet trill of light-waves 
There’s a distance profound. 

There’s a world of emotion 
For subliminal sense, 

That lies in a region 
Of mystery intense. 

The Tapturous visions 
That light-waves disclose, 
Glide away into depths 
That actinics expose. 


IN THE HEIGHTS 


327 


The mental vibration 
Where poetry dwells, 

Alone may discover 
The fairy-built dells, 

Where the spirit world nestles 
In endless delights, 

Which are reachable only 
By infinite flights. 

X 

The swift-darting fishes 
That spawn in the sea 
Ascend to the nestling 
That broods in the tree, 

By signal departure 
From fin to the wing, 

From suction that gurgles 
To voice that can sing, 

From mail-coated mollusk, 

Or tentacle’s cling, 

To plesiosaurus, 

Or saurian king. 

The cold slimy reptile 
In uncanny coil 
Sleeps half its existence 
In the slumberous soil. 

The narrow-environed, 

The mud-reveller, 

Is changed for new weather 
By feathers and fur, 

For travel and climate 
Adjusted anew, 

For wider environ 

Bids old haunts adieu. 


328 


QUEST AND QUERY 


For existence still wider 
The human biped 
By fire and culture 
Is coddled and fed, 

Till intellects flourish, 

A cultus attained, 

Refinement ascendant, 

Where passions are reined. 

XI 

The lofty e’er implies 
The corresponding deep, 

The things that mount the skies 
From stable groundwork leap. 

The deep is in the high, 

Profound both thought and thing, 
Soon is the low swung high, 

Where elevations swing. 

The zenith of the noon 
Is nadir of the night, 

The light of silvery moon 
Is sunshine bent in flight. 

Reptilian subtlety 
Is logic’s embryo, 

The slime in its degree 

Constructs the fair chateau. 

There’s nothing solely high, 

Nor despicably low, 

Throughout the circling sky 
In turn the phases go. 

Long ages dignify 

The canyon and plateau, 

Life’s patient lullaby 
Is sung adagio. 


IN THE HEIGHTS 


329 


XII 

The aeons potential 
With emotional fire 
Equip for the poet 
The exquisite lyre, 

The ear for the sound-wave, 
The eye for the light, 
Sensorium organic 
For conscious delight. 

The forms in their fitness 
To things that surround 
Give substance to beauty, 

And chorus to sound, 

Symphonious movement 
To sunlight and shade, 
Creating the music 
Of echoes’ cascade. 

All nature advances 
Along the sure line 
Of faintest resistance 
Where pathways incline, 

With curvature graceful 
Free movements enhance, 
The attributes blending 
In rich consonance. 

The bulge of the mountain, 
The deep bubbling spring, 
Curved neck of the heron, 
Fine tapering wing, 

The gush of the geyser, 
Opalescence of pearl, 
Stalactite of beauty, 

The plant’s leafy whorl, 


330 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The roar of the tempest, 
The silence of frost, 
The glimmering starlight 
In dim distance lost, 

To the gamut of glory, 
Of beauty and worth, 
The unwearied atom 
Gives endless rebirth. 

XIII 

A thought, and a figure, 
A fashion of mind, 

An entity-content 
Of spiritual kind, 

Refined mental substance, 
The reason of God, 
Goes forth on a journey 
A million times trod. 

A darting electron 
Indefinably small, 
Invisible father 
That generates all, 

A universe fosters 
Of progeny strange, 
Gradations of being 
Of infinite range. 

From spirit to ether, 
Electron to sperm, 
From primitive plasm 
To variety’s germ, 

From bloom to decadence, 
From youth to old age, 
Returns the wayfarer 
From long pilgrimage. 


IN THE HEIGHTS 


33 i 


The earth’s solid substance 
Of diamond and stone, 
Disintegrates slowly 
To ethereal zone. 

Secrete oxidation, 

Combustion unseen, 
Consumption voracious 
Eats all things terrene. 

The century stalwart 
Is shrouded in rust, 

The tall granite mountain 
Shall crumble to dust. 

The city’s devoured, 

The dense forest green 
Is unceasingly passing 
To a world that’s unseen. 

Life’s every existence 
To death-nature born, 

Going out into nightshade, 
Reappears with the morn. 

The atom goes plodding 
The vast ages through, 

Along the curved pathway 
Of the infinite blue. 

Electrical motion 

With God at the helm, 
Returns with appeasement 
To the spiritual realm. 

’Tis the song of the ages, 

The chorus sublime, 

That eternally echoes 

Down the long halls of time. 


332 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Forever Jehovah 
Goes forth as a star 
Illuming the aeons 
Without calendar. 

The sinful, the weary, 

The halt and the blind, 

Not endless quietus, 

But glory shall find. 

XIV 

Solidified matter 

Seeks crystalline form, 
Battalions go marching 
Like lordly gendarme. 

Affinities cluster 
And form coteries, 
Affections of matter 
Possess pedigrees. 

The mental attraction 
Of like-thinking minds, 

The physical fondness 
Which duality binds, 

Build tender attachments, 

The bond of desire, 

Where complements aptly 
With endearments conspire. 

The mother’s devotion, 

The progeny’s trust, 

The sire’s attention 
With vigor robust, 

Incipient circles 
Of union create, 

Community social, 

Life’s first syndicate. 


IN THE HEIGHTS 


333 


The eggs in the eyrie 
External are hatched 
In a domicile open, 

By mother’s wing thatched. 

The egg of the mammal 
Incubates best within, 
Placental arrangement 
Is sympathy’s gin. 

The quickly fledged nestling 
Soon urged to the wing, 
Its ancestral music 
Itself learns to sing. 

The young of the human 
Long culture receive, 

And slow the desire 
For taking home-leave. 

The years of attachment, 
Dependence and love, 

Are akin to the aeons 
When deity throve, 

When love was the motive 
That urged fertile mind 
To produce timeless beings 
Of cultural kind. 

XV 

How sweet to the weary 
The arrival at home 
From excursion primeval, 

An unwritten tome, 

From voyage of wonder, 

A route through the skies 
In an infinite circle 
Of endless surprise, 


334 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Where countless transitions 
Time’s pinion benumbed, 
Submerged in blue ether, 
Profoundness unplumbed. 

’Tis a home-coming gladsome, 
Return to the Mind, 

That commissioned the journey 
By pathways that wind 

Through muffled maneuvers, 
Where motion is blind, 

Where time’s nimble knapsack 
That spiderwebs bind, 

Or burden more mystic, 

Is at last laid aside 
To sit at the banquet 
Where spirits preside. 

XVI 

We sit in life’s darkness 
And watch the stars rise, 

As larger and brighter 
They blazon the skies, 

Till the darkness is dotted 
With eyes of the night, 

The windows of chambers 
That are locked in the light. 

For behind the star-torches 
That flame in their flight, 

Lies a boundless dominion 
Of more sublime height, 

Where reason is ruler, 

Whose citizens free 
Are released from time’s chamber 
By a spiritual key; 


IN THE HEIGHTS 


335 


Where life without friction 
Is harnessed to joy, 

And painless the spirits 
Their talents employ. 

Each personal spirit 
Without moral strife 
Is ruled from within 
As an integer life. 

All plurals are units 
In motives of right, 

And all are light-rays 
Of one endless delight, 

Where space has no centre, 

Nor circumference bound, 
Where wrongness, nor conscience, 
Nor anxiety’s found. 

The perfect primeval 
Of substance and mind 
Is lithely restored 
To coequal kind. 

Like creature aquatic 
That swims in the sea, 

Or bird in its freedom 
Not glued to the tree, 

The eagle of spirit 
Sails close to the sun, 

While fitness and finish 
Life weaves into one. 

Demarcation of matter 
From spirit set free 
Is a line indistinct 

In the great cosmic sea. 


336 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The darkness through twilight 
Ascends to the day, 

The nothing to something 
Paints the fair Milky Way. 

For back of the nothing 
Is thought of the thing, 

And both fly together 
On infinite wing. 

The thoughts of creation 
Objective become, 

Whence spring complex problems, 
Insolvable sum. 

The answer is given, 

’Tis the wonder of life, 

The solution attained 
At the end of the strife. 

The eye is too dim 

Through the granite to see; 

Lift me up on the rock 
That is too high for me. 

XVII 

No force is existent 
That is able to save, 

But the infinite Power 
Who His own Self gave; 

Whoi starts His thought-waves 
On a brave journey long, 

And restores His creation 
To primeval song. 

Man’s fragile existence, 

His delicate frame, 

Which sentiment pesters, 

And passions inflame, 


IN THE HEIGHTS 


337 


Is an instrument dainty, 

A highly strung harp, 

That measures its music 
By minor and sharp. 

Its tonal production 
The player evokes 
By symphonious spirit 
That presses the strokes. 

Incarnate the music, 

The soul yields the song, 

To the invisible spirit 
The graces belong. 

The value of being 
Lies pent in the soul, 

And o’erleaps every hindrance 
To reach its ripe goal. 

The self is expansive 
Beyond its brief frame, 

’Tis wilful misventure 

Gives birth to earth’s shame. 

The highway of virtue 
Is deity’s road, 

No curious adventure 
E’er better path strode. 

To live well our nature 
Untrammelled by wrong, 

To rule out all error 
By will that is strong, 

Is virtue’s contractor 
That builds superfine, 

By sharpening the axes 
That hew to the line. 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The line apprehended 

To divide right from wrong, 
In the many conventions 
Which busy life throng, 

Is a grace that’s constructed 
Man’s being within, 

A way of redemption 
From base blighting sin. 

Profound incarnations 
That drill to the core, 

Are principles vital 
That values restore. 

To tame wild conditions 
There comes the God-Man 
To indwell, and engender 
The graces that span 

Great values established, 

Which never decay, 

And frail peradventure 
That sojourns in clay. 

And Holy the Spirit 
Proceeding from God, 

That implants the soul’s garden, 
At man’s willing nod, 

With seedlings immortal, 

Which furnish such fruit 
Of the Spirit as Love, 

Life’s chief attribute. 

The Spirit eternal, 

The unfathomed Source, 
Which started creation 
On its infinite course, 


IN THE HEIGHTS 


339 


The Divine, energizing 
Throughout His domain, 

In matter and manhood 
Dispels the profane. 

There’s nothing so lowly, 
There’s nothing so high, 

But His love and His purpose 
Their worth dignify. 

XVIII 

Last night, loving mother, 

I went out to play 
By the deep mill-pond 
On the old roadway. 

So long I’ve been lying 
Here weak on my bed, 
Though tired, yet faithful, 

My night prayer I said. 

I asked the Lord Jesus 
That I might play 
Till the mill stopped running, 
And father would say, 

“ ’Tis time to go home, now,” 
And taking my hand 
Would lead through the clearing 
By the big piles of sand. 

My little pink bonnet 
I put on my head, 

The bonnet I like so, 

And keep by my bed, 

And down the long foot path 
That goes by the hill 
I played till I came 
To the old sawmill. 


340 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The tall flowers knew me 
That stood by the pond, 
And I patted the colors 
Of which I’m so fond. 

And I spread a flat table 
At the foot of the tree, 
And from columbine spouts 
I poured some nice tea. 

New chips were my dishes, 
The napkins were leaves, 
And I wiped off the ants 
With my long blue sleeves. 

In a wild lady’s-slipper 
I left some fresh tea 
For the ants that I scared, 
And the nice bumblebee. 

And into the mill-race 
I threw a round chip, 

That sailed out of sight 
Like a real picture-ship. 

And I wondered wherever 
That nice chip would go 
When it got by the mill 
To the rapids below. 

The world must be big, 

It seems so to me, 

And the chip will go out 
To sail on the sea. 

And all seemed so quiet 
Around the old mill, 

The saw was not going, 

The water-wheel still. 


IN THE HEIGHTS 


34* 


I looked at the mosses 
That covered the cogs, 

And went down the road 
Made smooth by the logs. 

Then up the steep hillside 
I clambered again 
Where father once took me 
With some strange lumbermen. 

And I saw a big sight 
That stretched far away 
To the windows of heaven, 

Where good angels play. 

And then I was tired, 

And came back to bed, 

And happier my play, mother, 
Than ever I’ve said. 

Twas a dream, my dear child, 
Your bonnet hangs there 
With the little blue gown 
Above the tall chair. 

O no! not a dream, mother, 

It’s all real to me, 

For you didn’t play, mother, 

Nor the mill did you see. 

It was real, little daughter, 

As real as the mind, 

Which some troubled dreamers 
Seem never to find. 

There’s a bright happy playhouse 
That shadows the soul, 

Where spirits through aeons 
That endlessly roll, 


342 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Rehearse the sweet memories 
That pass by the mill, 

When the wheels of earth’s fabric 
Forever are still. 

And the water still flows 

Through the moss-covered mill, 
And the vision is open 
At the top of the hill. 


CANTO XV 


THE IDEAL AS QUEST 

I 

My name is, Ideal, 

I’m the architect’s tool; 

His name is, Idea, 

Who sends me to school. 

He’s the sum of perfection 
Of all I can think, 

At the font of his fulness 
I drink, and I drink. 

His wisdom engirdles 
The loins of my mind, 

His chains of completeness 
My energies bind. 

My beauty is action, 

His face is a dream, 

And I gaze till I vision 
A universe-scheme. 

And then as a builder 
I fashion the frame, 

An adamant-scaffold 
For a flickering flame, 

The breath of a spirit, 

The flame of a fire, 

That pulses as ethic 

With a heart of desire. 

343 


344 


QUEST AND QUERY 

II 

I have color for vision 
Ere reason espies 
The tints so enticing 
That dazzle the eyes. 

I enchant with the flower, 

And the gay plumage-dress, 
In the field and the forest 
With dainty finesse. 

The hummingbird’s brilliance 
’Mid rich floral bloom, 

And the glinting attraction 
Of the cockerel’s plume, 

Are delights of my venture 
Endowing the form 
Of nature’s fair body 
With delectable charm. 

In delicate objects 
I delight not alone, 

I busy my rapture 
In clay and in stone. 

Thou rock, art my pleasure, 
The stark stepping stone 
By which I ascend 
To invincible throne. 

I aim at conclusion 

That ne’er wears away, 

At an ethic dominion 
Where invisibles weigh. 

III 

Thou mount, art a ladder, 
Thou sand, a subway, 

I ascend and descend 
In diversified play. 


THE IDEAL AS QUEST 


345 


I romp with the bowlder, 

The crag in the sea, 

That wades in the breakers 
Which frolic in glee. 

Thou shalt melt by my suasion, 
Thou pretense of age, 

Thou charlatan mountain, 

Life’s one little stage. 

I conquer thy hardness, 

And scatter as dust 
Thy ponderal presence 
By aerial rust. 

Thy cheeks brown and rugged 
Through long countless years 
Felt the touch of my kisses, 

And the salt spray of tears. 

At the feet of thy grandeur 
Is the numberless sand, 

The tale of caresses 

Which e’en rocks ne’er withstand. 

I loved thee, caressed thee, 

And soothed the rough face 
Of thine adamant-greatness 
By my constant embrace. 

In the greed of my pleasure 
I dashed at thy form, 

And beat out thy beauty 
In the violent storm. 

When the moon made her journey, 
I night after night 
Baptized thy robustness 
With tidal delight. 


34^ 


QUEST AND QUERY 


I love what is rugged, 

Nor firm, overmuch, 

What yields to ripe culture 
By delicate touch, 

Is the goal I am seeking 
By endless pursuit, 

The soul’s vague endeavor, 

The pure Absolute. 

My action goes forward, 

For that is my name, 

And I lick up the past 

With my lithe tongue of flame. 

I count the same milestones 
In the circles I coursed, 

But the path is converted, 

And the riders unhorsed. 

Each deems his experience 
Momentously new; 

Awakeness be phantom, 

The dream may be true! 

IV 

The faulted ideals 
That fall by the way, 

Are the remnants of purpose 
That is here e’er to stay. 

There are spores by the million 
That die in the race, 

In the rush for survival 
Whose successes displace 

Competitors tragic, 

That vie in the strife, 
Attempting dominion 
In the advantage of life. 


THE IDEAL AS QUEST 


347 


The beautiful also, 

Falls down in the rush, 
And is trampled untimely 
In the insensible crush. 

The robust dominion 
Of material might 
Long ruled down the aeons 
That are lost out of sight. 

Defeated ideals 
Of delicate frame, 

Whose dreams are too fragile 
To establish their claim, 

Still linger in silence 
Awaiting the day, 

When visions shall vanquish 
The superlative clay. 

There are deathless ambitions 
Oft put to sad rout, 

E’er refusing to perish 
By derision, or clout. 

The seedlings still nestle 
In great visioned souls, 
Who sense virile values 
In far distant goals. 

V 

She was framed for affection, 
So gentle and fair, 

The maiden who hungered 
For the manliest care. 

The courteous and gallant 
In life’s social stream, 
Awakes in the maiden 
A definite dream. 


QUEST AND QUERY 


She interprets his manner 
In her soul’s purest terms, 
While his winsome attention 
Her expectation confirms. 

Sweet flowers full-scented 
The exuberant air, 

While she felt the descent 
On the blithe bridal stair, 

And heard the soft movement 
Of bridesmaids in train, 

As lithely they glided 
In step to the strain 

Of the firm stately music, 
Majestic in grace, 

That calmed the emotions 
’Neath tremulous lace. 

A roseate future 

Seemed dawning to sight, 

As faith gave assurance, 

And hope reached its height. 

Maternity’s transport, 

Love’s ultimate goal, 

The chastest achievement 
Of the dream of the soul, 

The baby hand’s pressure 
Upon the soft breast, 

Is the joy that leaps upward 
To love’s lofty crest. 

But the dream was a phantom, 
That haunted the years, 
Which veiled fading hopes 
With secrecy’s tears. 


THE IDEAL AS QUEST 


349 


And the sole lullaby 

That the zephyrs might wing, 
Was the strain of frustration 
From a sad muted string. 

VI 

The indifferent trifler 
With blithe debonair 
Rehearsed on his fingers 
His success with the fair. 

One tragic disaster 
Is a mere bagatelle 
To life’s social villain, 

The soul’s infidel. 

The twain had idea 
That wanted to be, 

But accomplished ideal 
Gave character’s key. 

Ideal! Ideal! 

The wished-for attained! 

The lost is as real 

As the purpose that’s gained. 

The best is oft thwarted, 

The good oft a guess, 

A choice faintly aided 
By the will to possess. 

There’s a good that is social, 

A good that is sole, 

Each has its impulsion, 

Its satisfied goal. 

There are goods in sad conflict, 
The better and best, 

And the soul in its struggle 
Is never at rest. 


350 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Yet faith sees a kingdom 
Where goods coalesce, 

Where graces combining 
Achieve their success. 

Is the dream but a nightmare, 
The phantom of years? 

Is beauty itself 

Consumed by its tears? 

VII 

The first of sensations 
Is temperature’s touch, 

And matter moves dumbly 
By catoptrical crutch. 

No sight, and no hearing 
Ennobles the mass, 

Yet it feels its relation 
Without looking-glass. 

The creature goes touching 
With blundering feel, 

Till through its mute structure 
Sense qualities steal, 

Endowing the movements 
That testingly pry, 

Till lo, there’s apparent 
A miniature eye! 

The mute creature yielded 
To the dim guiding light, 
Until it responded 

With an organ of sight. 

The ear for the sound-wave, 
The eye for the light, 

And matter wakes up 

From the numbness of night. 


THE IDEAL AS QUEST 


35i 


Ideals are feelings 
That more than just seem, 

If the soul may wake up 

And pronounce them a dream. 

VIII 

I dwelt in the chamber 
Of the grey granite hills 
Where only the earthquake 
The adamant thrills. 

Though once I roamed freely, 
As soft plastic clay, 

Till plunged under pressure, 

To heat made a prey, 

I hardened my nature 
And grew into rock, 

And at last felt the thunder 
Of a dynamite shock. 

Transported I rested 
In an art studio, 

Awaiting the chisel, 

And the deft hammer-blow. 

The touch of the artist, 

The grace of his soul, 

Cast over my nature 
Sublime aureole. 

Of perfection a copy, 

Ideal complete, 

With feature-expression 
Of graces replete, 

I symboled in figure, 

In external form, 

The grace of the human 
Excelling life’s norm. 


352 


QUEST AND QUERY 




Dwells not in myself 
This grace to achieve, 

’Tis the soul of my maker 
Created me Eve. 

Full many a tremor 
I felt on the road 
That led from the star-dust 
To the sweet lyric ode, 

Which chanted my graces 
To the reader of art, 

And swelled the emotions 
Of the susceptible heart. 

But never a tremor 
So creatively strove 
As escaped from the finger 
Of the artist of love. 

The soul of my beauty, 

Which beams from my face, 
Was made by my maker 
Expressing his grace. 

IX 

I am still the ideal 
With value replete, 

More chaste than the real 
Which we every day meet. 

’Tis distance that hallows 
The appearance: of things, 
Defects in life’s being 
Rude fellowship brings. 

Embrace me in silence, 

And let your eyes close, 

My language is whisper 
With the scent of the rose. 


THE IDEAL AS QUEST 


353 


Else stand in the distance, 
Where best you may view, 
Remoteness lends beauty, 
And makes the sky blue. 

’Tis the graces man offers 
That find their response, 
The worth of mere matter 
Is mirroring sconce. 

The ideal as Beauty 
Takes on the soul’s hue, 
Perfection that’s inward 
Is inherently true. 

When matter’s familiar 
To men’s raucous selves, 
Their lowliest nature 

In its baser realm delves. 

To image perfection, 

And then live apart 
Is empty illusion, 

Unoccupied art. 

The marriage of matter 
With ideal mind 
Completes the alliance 

Where beauty’s enshrined. 

Completion’s attainment 
Is the finding of self, 

The statecraft of person 
That models the pelf. 

The divinest ideal 

Is the selfhood acquired 
By the formative Spirit 
Which all life inspired. 


354 


QUEST AND QUERY 


’Tis the God of perfection 
That has fashioned our sphere. 
Disharmony human 
Has warped its career. 

X 

My name is, Depiction, 

I wield the art-brush, 

And revel in colors 
Of pallor, and blush. 

The prismatic treasures 
That cluster in light, 

I transfer to the canvas 
For delectation of sight. 

My mimic adjustments 
Of light-wave and shade, 

Are the flashes of heaven 

Caught in earth’s ambuscade. 

The grace-forming outline 
Of subtilty’s stroke, 

Embodies a spirit 
As deity’s cloak. 

My friend is, Description, 

Who paints with a word 
In most rapturous lyric 
That ear ever heard, 

In language as limpid 
As Alpine cascade, 

In melody lingual 
As heaven’s serenade. 

Our comrade is, Music, 

Who breathes through the lyre 
Emotions ecstatic 
That thrill and inspire. 


THE IDEAL AS QUEST 


355 


Sound’s dulcet endeavor, 

That swells the heart’s throb, 
Symphonious with pleasure, 

Or linked to the sob, 

Baptizes emotions 

With spiritual chrism, 

And allays with a tranquil 
And somnolent rhythm. 

The color that’s vocal, 
Description that sings, 

The language of music, 

Give angels their wings. 

We are sisters immortal, 

Of culture, the stars, 

And we walk with the sculptor 
Who his statue unbars. 

And we ramble together 
’Neath earth’s architrave, 
Which the architect copies 
In temple and nave. 

We are graces incarnate, 

With matter we sport, 

Our home is the vision, 

The ideal’s our forte. 

We are comrades of angels, 
Divine coterie, 

To elysium’s banquet 
We fabric the key. 

Life’s weariness seeks us, 

To soften its toil, 

And husbandry’s languor . 

That works with the soil. 


356 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The nursery’s pleasures, 

Sweet childhood’s delight, 

The play of the morning, 

The tales at twilight, 

The elderly merchant, 

The retired financier, 

Who would mellow life’s evening 
With diversions that cheer, 

Resort to the storehouse 
Of arts’ coterie, 

Where the angels of culture 
Confer their degree. 

XI 

I too am ideal, 

Though named but a Tree; 

I dwell in the forest 
Baptized by the sea. 

The chisel that shapes me 
Is a more subtle tool 
Than the thrust of the sculptor. 
Or the apprentice at school. 

I am a poem of nature, 

The painter’s despair, 

My language is beauty 
As fluent as air. 

The music I whisper 
Is the plaudit of leaves, 

Or the fronded pine’s minor 
When the night wind grieves. 

My growth is a secret, 

I am built from within, 

My summer robe, verdant, 

The water-threads spin. 


THE IDEAL AS QUEST 


357 


I rest all the winter, 

But work with the spring, 

And bloom on the Sabbath 
While the worshippers sing. 

My daughter, the Blossom, 

Is kissed by the dews, 

And adorns the bride’s bosom 
With delicate hues. 

My children, the Apples, 
Tempt all the world round, 

To me servile princes 

Are by luscious links bound. 

The wealth of the orchard 
Is a precious design; 

The service of beauty 
Is art superfine. 

My temples of forest 
Are the architect’s cue, 

My low-swinging branches, 
The worshipper’s pew. 

My needle-shaft brooches 
Pin the earth to the sky, 

And the mists veil my bosom 
While the stars go by. 

When in quest of supernals 
Will you not seek me? 

I’ll embrace with the beauty 
Of a hale stalwart tree. 

XII 

I pictured in vision 

An aesthetic dreamland, 

Where love’s graces wander 
With hand clasped in hand, 


358 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Where floral-wreathed garlands 
Festoon the gay halls, 

And Terpsichore’s rapture 
Enticingly calls. 

With wayward ambition, 

Like the Prodigal free, 

I took the inheritance 
Allotted to me, 

And with mind now illumined 
As I ate of the fruit, 

I sang to the wine-cup 
On a high-tensioned lute. 

But the frost killed the blossoms, 
And the thunderbolt’s crash 
Followed close at the heels 
Of the luminous flash. 

My form once so stalwart 
Was bowed by the blow, 

The ideal was dying 
By atrophy slow. 

The scenes that environ 
With color and show, 

The music and dancing 
In gilded chateau, 

The amorous readings 
That clandestinely spy 
On the soul’s wayward dreamings 
By the lust of the eye, 

Were garish illusion 
That turned into sigh, 

For the lines of true beauty 
Were twisted awry. 


THE IDEAL AS QUEST 


359 


A spiritual minstrel 

Was beauty’s pure theme, 

Till adulterous pleasures 
Made turbid the stream. 

The soul’s savage tempest, 

As ribald blaspheme, 

Disrobed the aesthetic, 

And banished the dream. 

I am still the ideal, 

But lusts clipped my wings; 

I have told you the story 
On half-subdued strings. 

XIII 

I abide the ideal, 

I’m the shadow of soul, 

And I bless all debris 

’Long the path which I stroll. 

There are ideal comrades, 

And ideal foes, 

And each coterie 

Would the other depose. 

My worth lies in action, 

Not indigent ease, 

My wealth is acquired 
Not just as men please. 

May not the ideal 

Be indirectly attained; 

By the blur of one value 
Another be gained! 

It is through interaction, 

The strife for the fit, 

That superlative values 
Together are knit. 


360 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The ideal is wayward 
In a balancing realm; 

Let the universe cruise 
With the real at the helm. 

The ideal’s existent 

In life’s common weal, 

Which noisy disorder 
Can never repeal. 

Dame nature is skilful; 

Her medicinal cure 

Is applied to complaints, 

To thoughts immature. 

The social grows sickly 
By feasting too much, 

And thoughts breed vagariei 
By too greedy clutch. 

There are oddities many 
That have fitting place, 

The contrivance of nature 
Runs an intricate race. 

There are many things needful 
That enter by stealth, 

There are microbes abundant 
That minister health. 

Let the real be ideal 
In the multiplex life, 

Evolution bring treasures 
Out of tortuous strife! 

The human race faulted 
By desire to be gods; 

The builder knows how 
To take care of the odds. 


THE IDEAL AS QUEST 


361 


I’m the rugged ideal, 

And am chummy with things. 

I accompany my story 

On vamped, knotted strings. 

XIV 

River-mist is rarefaction, 

Lashing ocean churns to foam, 

In the nimble mind’s abstraction 
Vague ideals have their home. 

Brisk imagination’s glowing 
Is with concrete fact entwined, 

All our senses’ wealth of knowing 
Comes as mirrored by the mind. 

Will achieves by overthrowing, 

Pent-up waters make ascent, 

River current overflowing 
What it cannot circumvent. 

If the sorrows and distresses, 

The indignities and woes, 

Where beatitude digresses, 

Be of happiness the foes, 

Then the mind must be protesting 
What ideals deprecate, 

And the soul has been attesting 
Something good in its estate. 

In this world’s frantic emotion, 
Agitation and unrest, 

There’s a shore that bounds the ocean, 
Every trough must have a crest. 

If we’re conscious of the motion, 

Then there’s something that’s at rest, 
’Tis by contrast comes the notion, 
Something good suggests the best. 


362 


QUEST AND QUERY 


Great ideals are brain-stretching 
From establishment that’s stout, 
Fertile mind is ever sketching, 

Fore discovery goes the scout. 

XV 

My home is the dreamland, 

I exist for the mind, 

And I incarnate achievement 
Of practical kind. 

No more gracious demeanor 
Beneath the bright sun, 

Than the beautiful manner 
A thing may be done. 

The behavior of action 
Excels transient deed, 

Like beneficent conduct 
The vociferous creed. 

To be a producer 
By habit refined, 

Exhibits the spirit 
To beauty inclined. 

In the heart of the mountain 
Is discovery’s cave, 

Where wealth for the idler, 

Or chance for the brave, 

Lies waiting the gesture 
Of human surprise, 

The angle of easement, 

Or brisk enterprise. 

The gold and the silver, 

And the more precious gems, 
That attract by their splendor 
And grace diadems, 


THE IDEAL AS QUEST 


363 


Rich colorful raiment, 

Fine linen and silk, 

For complexion of princess, 
Who bathes in pure milk,— 

Such delectable treasures 
As charm with their glint, 
Fall into your bosom 
At significant hint. 

In the metalline mountain 
Dwells the adulterate ore 
Awaiting the furnace, 

And the brisk valiant corps, 

Who shape manufacture 
Into tool and the loom, 
Which release priceless riches 
From toil’s facile womb, 

And create in the toiling 
A rich character, 

The wealth of existence 
That is prodded by spur. 

Life’s much finer texture 
Is to make, than to wear, 

To create is more manly, 

Than idly to stare. 

Fine being and doing 
Are closely entwined, 

In the soul of the maker 
Is the ideal enshrined. 

One loves the achieving, 
Another the gold; 

One’s joy is the action, 
Another’s, the hold. 


364 


QUEST AND QUERY 


The home of ideals 
Is not the attained, 

In the march of performance 
Is the ideal gained. 

Maturity withers 
And turns to decay, 

To the seed of the future 
Is completeness a prey. 

The worth of life’s striving 
Is the ideal begun, 

And transcends the composure 
Of perfection that’s won. 

There’s nothing immobile, 
There’s nothing that’s end, 
The secret of being 
Is spiritual trend. 

I’m the spirit of doing, 

And doing’s my goal, 

In behavior of action 

Lies the wealth of the soul. 

Life’s nebulous ocean 
For the sailor is free, 

The charts are full many, 

But there’s ever more sea. 

My home is the dreamland, 

I exist for the mind, 

I incarnate achieving 
As the aeons unwind. 











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